


It's Always Sunny In Corvo Bianco

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Comedy, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Geralt is a Bisexual disaster, Geralt is a good dad, Jaskier is gay for his new neighbor, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, They were neighbors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jaskier gets a new neighbor in the apartment across the hall, and realizes very quickly that he is so gay for this man.-------This is a collection of prompts/interconnected one shots about Jaskier and Geralt's relationships as neighbors in the same apartment complex.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 262
Kudos: 1307





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an impulsive series for an idea that I was playing with where Geralt is a retired military veteran and moved into a new place with his adopted daughter and he encounters the cute amusing musician across the hall from him and things evolve from there.

“What the heck is all of that boorish grunting?” Jaskier hissed as his quiet afternoon which he intended to be completely devoted to honing his musical talents, was interrupted by the stampede of movement outside of his apartment door. He couldn’t tell if someone was being crushed by an overly large bull or they were dying from some sort of physical distress. His curiosity being his death and all, he leaped to his feet from his cozy sofa, disbanding the blanket he had tucked around his waist and setting his guitar on the ottoman before rushing to the door to take a peek. The peep hole was shadowed out by some dark shape, obscuring his view of the outside world. Assuming some loiterers had posted advertisements over it _again_ he unlocked it and threw it open. 

Only to get a face full of the very large muscular man whose godly body was currently blocking his door as he maneuvered a couch down the narrow space and attempted to angle it through the doorway and into the apartment across the hall. From this angle, Jaskier could only make out the flex of broad muscular shoulders through the skin tight sweat dampened black long sleeve. Long white hair was shaved in an undercut and tied back into a ponytail that bobbed as the man- and his partner- attempted to shift the heavy piece of furniture through the doorway. 

Jaskier felt an inkling of sympathy for the pair, knowing very well that the Corvo Bianco apartments did not contain an elevator large enough for such an item and the pair would have had to lift the heavy piece up three flights of stairs. He leaned to the side of his doorway as he watched them successfully push it through the ridiculously small door frame. The muscular man barely fitting through it himself, nearly having to dip his head to avoid bumping the frame. A curious peek in after them, he spotted a trolley being unloaded with numerous carefully taped and labeled boxes. A young teenage girl in black shorts and a dark green shirt labeled with the nearby school’s cheer team logo was bent over, moving them around to the designated rooms, returning from the kitchen when she caught a glimpse of Jaskier in the doorway.

She tucked a stray platinum blonde strand of hair out of her face where it fell from her carefully wrangled ponytail, offering a warm smile at him as she gave a small wave.

“Ciri?” The same gruff voice from earlier called from further in the apartment before the large dark shape of the man rounded the corner towards the doorway. His golden -are those slit pupils?- eyes landed on Jaskier with a stern gaze. Jaskier stiffened as those eerie inhuman looking eyes pinned him in place, sending a barely stifled shiver of fear through him that he should probably heed. The jagged scarring down the side of the man’s face was a sharp etch into a stony facade that screamed _run!_ The man bared his teeth in what Jaskier could only assume was a smile, but it was far too frightening to be considered friendly. The sheer mountainous size of the man was terrifying and like all small stupid prey animals spotted by a predator, he was stuck in place, back to the hallway wall as the man approach with a disturbing amount of feline grace and a touch of swagger that was oh so sexy. _This was not the time to be horny Jaskier!_ He hissed inwardly at himself, then squeaked softly when the man stopped, offering a hand towards the musician.

“You must be our neighbor?” The large man spoke, golden eyes dragging up along Jaskier’s frame as if he was sizing up a tasty morsel and that honestly did things to Jaskier that would be shameful to admit. 

“I’m Geralt.” Jaskier reached for the offered hand, hesitantly at first when the fingers clamped firmly around his hand and he could have sworn he heard his fingers pop. His gaze was stolen by a spot of motion at Geralt’s side as the young girl peered around the man’s massive frame to wave at Jaskier. “This is my daughter.”

“Cirilla.” She offered her own hand in greeting and Jaskier, once he extricated his own from Geralt’s, accepted it and wondered at the gentle caress of small dainty fingers. It was a startling contrast to the large rough bear paws of her father.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Welcome to Corvo Bianco apartments.” Jaskier reeled in his nervousness as he spoke, shifting his attention on something more mundane than his current racing thoughts. “I’m Jaskier.”

“Nice to meet you.” The words rolled out in a low growl that made those naughty little trolls in Jaskier’s head start hammering out inappropriate ideas and a potentially very vulgar song for later that he’ll indulge in in the privacy of his shower.

Jaskier could only nod in affirmation, offering a breathy noise as he stared up into those piercing golden - _yes those are slitted pupils what the fuck?_ \- eyes. He cleared his throat and dismissed the thoughts as he spoke up. “Do you- uh- need any help carrying anything?”

Geralt cocked his head ever so slightly as if appraising the thought but dismissed it with a gruff. “No thanks.” He tossed his head over his shoulder, directing Jaskier’s attention towards the two bickering voices that filtered out of the apartment accompanied by the rowdy shuffling of boxes. At if on cue, two short stocky bearded men walked through the door, dusting their hands off and headed down the halls. One had a shaved head and his beard was braided neatly and styled with small iron decorative rings.

“I hired Yarpen Zigrin’s men to help.” Geralt explained, watching the pair head towards the elevators just as two more came out of it carrying a dresser along. They traded places and headed back down to the moving truck to continue hauling.

“Ey! Geralt! Where d’ya want this?” One of the men hollered in a tone that Jaskier would have flinched at, assuming the very large gruff man could easily crush him for such a disrespectful tone. But the large intimidating growly neighbor simply turned to gesture inside the apartment. 

“I have to go. It was nice meeting you.” Geralt grumbled out, turning to follow the movers with little fanfare in their parting. Jaskier watched him stalk away with primal force, eyeballing the way those pants hugged his ass in an oh so delicious way. Beside him, Cirilla giggled softly in girlish amusement as if parsing out the route his thoughts were headed. It made his cheeks warm with a sudden rush of self-consciousness.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, looking down at the girl as she leaned against the wall beside him, her feet crossed at the ankles as she watched her father flit back and forth through the doorway like a precision tornado, hefting large heavy boxes two and three at a time as he carried the rest off the trolley to various places around the apartment.

“This is our sixth time moving.” Cirilla started. “And he never changes.” She hefted a sigh, scooting her heel across the toe of her sneakers in idle motion. “Hopefully this time we’ll actually stay for once.”

Jaskier tilted his head, glancing at the young girl thoughtfully. “Have you always lived in Novigrad City?” He inspected her clothing, wondering if she was recently enrolled or had been going there for some time already. It was rare that people came to Corvo Bianco that weren’t already living in the city for most of their lives.

She nodded. “We stayed in the Bits for a little while with my Aunt Triss but we’ve only been in Novigrad two years. Before that it was Oxenfurt and before that Velen.” She scrunched her nose up in mild disgust at the last part. “Dad was stationed at Crow’s Perch for a few months before we had to move again.”

“Stationed?” Jaskier asked, his eyes widening with sudden intrigue. He could definitely see that, his sheer size alone screamed _armed and dangerous_ . The low growl that was his voice rolled out with sharp commands like a drill sergeant. And the uniform- _oh, no he needs to stop that train of thought right there._ He kindly bookmarked the idea for later and decided he should probably reevaluate just how fucked up his life (and love life) had gotten that he was lusting over his obviously straight neighbor. The man had a daughter for Melitele’s sake. He would just be the creepy mournful horny musician next door that rubs one out late at night while thinking of her father. _God that’s pathetic._

“Yeah, he used to serve in the-” Cirilla started but was cut off by the sound of Geralt’s voice from somewhere in the apartment. It boomed like thunder, startling Jaskier with a jolt but Cirilla only rolled her eyes. He assumed that growing up with a father like that made one immune to natural fear responses associated with big scary wolfish men. Either that, or she was the bravest girl in existence.

“Ciri!”

“Coming Dad!” She called back, giving Jaskier a little wave in farewell as she skipped into step and headed inside. Down the hall, Zigrin’s men emerged from the elevator just as the other two left the apartment, grumbling about how much was still left in the loading truck. They pushed the trolley along, headed for the lift and easing past the other two who were maneuvering a desk down the hallway.

Jaskier decided this was a good enough time to return to his own apartment and mind his own business. His attention turned back towards his guitar as he settled onto the sofa, strumming a few quiet chords in thoughtful silence before giving in to the fact his muse was not influencing music at the moment and considered just how guilty he would be if he decided to take a shower instead. The discomfort in his trousers was enough to persuade him that a very cold shower could be in order.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are for chapter 2! I forgot to mark the fic as having multiple chapters. That's my fault and I didn't even realize I forgot to mark it. But anyway, here we are!
> 
> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments I recieved for this so far! It's made my day and gave me the motivation to knock out chapter two in the same sitting.

Jaskier trudged down the hallway as he navigated the darker grungy lower levels of the apartment building. It wasn’t the worst place he could think of, the apartments were actually really nice, especially for their price range, but some parts of the building seemed to have missed out on the interior beautification that happened a couple years back. He had been here a long time and he barely remembered what the apartments looked like when he first moved in, but the downstairs seemed to not have changed one bit. Aside from an update in appliances, the cold grey concrete underfoot and the occasional drains installed for flooding were a throwback in Jaskier’s mind to all the horror movies he refused to watch and still got dragged into subjecting himself to them at the behest of another.

He shivered with a sense of growing unease and immense displeasure, adjusting the basket in his arms filled to the brim with his dirty laundry from the week. Some of which reeked of stale alcohol and old tobacco from sitting in bars and strumming away at his guitar to please the inebriated crowds with whatever songs they prodded him for, from one gaudy country cover to the next, he aimed to please as long as it dropped a few dollars in his tip jar.

He had just returned from a similar evening and decided to creep down to the laundry room while nobody was around to enjoy the quiet middle of the night experience. And maybe be ax murdered by a ghost in the process because _bloody hell this place is creepy!_

All the years he's spent carrying out this same routine didn't absolve him of his immense dislike of the Corvo Bianco basements. Even less by the fact that many other tenants to the building swore up and down the basement was haunted. Whispering about shadow people, disembodied voices and being touched by hands that can't be seen. It was enough to terrify the bard, but not enough to make him go commando over because he has no clean underpants to wear in the morning and an appointment with an old friend for brunch.

Were it under any other circumstance, he might have made a witty comment about easier access to his nether regions when in the heat of passion, but his recent stint of bed partners had dwindled along with his muse. 

Jaskier sighed, fixed the grip on his basket and continued the rest of the way down to the laundry room when he heard a sound that chilled him to the core. He stiffened, gripping the laundry basket tightly in a white knuckled embrace, while he reconsidered just how desperate he was and weighing his priorities against his dignity. A shuddering rumble like a wolfish snarl rolled out from the dimly lit room. A shadow was thrown across the floor to the entrance and rose up like a sentinel beast against the dusty brick wall. Jaskier squeaked, stumbling back in a quick halted retreat as the shadow moved. 

His heart pitched high in his throat as he recalled all those stories in vivid detail and was reminded of the cold chill that seeped into his bones and gnawed at his paranoia long after. His blue eyes widened in horror as the shadow warped and twisted and-

He was rewarded with a set of piercing familiar golden eyes. The catlike slits narrowed in on him like prey as Geralt leaned around the door frame in a snug dark blue long sleeve and a new clean pair of very tight black jogging sweats.

"Oh, it's just you." Geralt rumbled out in dismissal, about to turn away when a brow arched up with a new goal in mind. He directed his gaze back on Jaskier as he asked. "Do you know how to work the dryers? They won't stay on."

Jaskier in the meantime was subjected to all five stages of grief in the span of a few very rapid heartbeats before settling into a sense of absolute relief and shock. He heaved a heavy almost dramatic exhale as he loosened his grip on the basket for fear that he would bend and shatter the rim on it (again). "You had me scared for a moment there." He huffed, starting towards the doorway to join Geralt in the laundry room.

Geralt lingered by the entrance with a quizzical expression. His brows knitted together momentarily as he asked. "Why is that?" Concern leaking into his voice as if he expected some underhanded dealings to be going on in this supposedly quaint little slice of apartment life.

Jaskier gave a small dismissive wave as he entered and set his basket on one of the two tables laid out for folding and sorting laundry. There were four sets of machines in total but only two were currently in working condition. Given that not everyone in the building did laundry at the same exact time, they rarely had a problem with tenants waiting on one another to finish.

"I thought I was going to be murdered by a ghost." He admitted after a moment, letting his own amusement at the idea leak into his voice at how silly it sounded. "The place is rumored to be haunted but I have yet to have any solid ground shattering experiences myself." He added. 

"Superstitious nonsense." Geralt scoffed derisively, leaning against one of the only working machines with his hip. The washer was already full with his laundry and apparently was waiting to be moved over when the dryer decided to have a fit.

Jaskier set to rescue the poor new tenant, showing him the trick with the fickle machines and their fancy settings. Whoever had used it last had messed with the presets which is a big no no. After a minute, he shut the dryer door and pressed the start button, rewarding the new tenant with the sweet blissful sound of drying laundry. 

"Viola!" He preened, turning to inspect the other man's grateful expression, a quietly concealed look that made Jaskier stumble for words. It was a tantalizing cross between a pleased hound and a very hungry homicidal cat which was a startling feat of it's own. He was certain there should be an award for such complex accomplishments. Maybe Geralt should take up acting, be the stoic terrifying bounty hunter in some fantastical supernatural series. If his plethora of stern, stern and more stern expressions didn't earn him an Oscar, then maybe his ass and bounteous pecs would.

His inner monologue was short circuited as his eyes raked over Geralt's easy posture. The lean stretch of a fit torso that Jaskier could only imagine dragging his nails over and outlining every dip and muscle, marveling at the exquisite nature of the man before him. The snug fit of the long sleeve rode up at the hem of Geralt's pants, exposing hard muscle and sun kissed skin. He could only fantasize of its warmth pressed up against his considerably smaller frame in bed. His blue eyes dropped their studious glance until he stuttered to a halt, cheeks rushing with a rapid swell of heat. He cleared his throat and turned away, heading back to the table where his basket was deposited to begin sorting his laundry into the available washer on the opposite side of the room. His back was turned towards Geralt as the man spoke up, a low purr of appreciation rumbling out.

Jaskier bobbed his head in a quiet nod and pretended to be fighting with the problematic machine while he tossed a detergent pod into the load. He forced his mind to ignore the fact that he could have sworn he'd seen the outline of Geralt's unmentionables through the tightness of his sweats. It was a fleeting glance, he would admit but he knew the look of a generously endowed man when he saw one. Jaskier considered himself quite the expert on that topic of discussion from his many well rounded years of experience in the _finer_ aspects of life and all the passion it allotted.

The silence that fell between them was thick with tension though much of it Jaskier was convinced he was imagining. There was no way Geralt had cued into his current train of thought, but the brief inspective glance he tossed over his shoulder was met with a thin baring of teeth that had the musician swallowing thickly and averting his gaze for the sake of his sanity. He wouldn't be able to survive the entire encounter of doing laundry in the same room with this man without breaking down in his already fragile resolve to be a good honest innocent neighbor who was helpful and sincere.

When he looked back over his shoulder after setting his laundry to wash properly, Jaskier let out a startled choked off squeak of fright. Geralt was looming over him with that ever present stern expression that only made the scarring on his face deepen. The musician couldn't help but conjure up what hell spawn had the balls to do _that_ to _this_ man.

"Hold still." Geralt warned, a low husky voice that breathed warmth against Jaskier's cheek. They were so close, he could feel the heat rolling off of Geralt's chest. The close proximity had his heart thundering wildly in his chest and Jaskier was of the mind of great concern that it would give out.

When the man's large bear paw like hands reached up, one gripped Jaskier's shoulder in a vice, ensuring the musician didn't move a muscle. He stiffened under the new tenant's touch, knees trembling with a mixture of fear and mortified arousal. He flinched when the other hand neared his face but the uncharacteristically soft tone of the man's voice caught him off guard. 

"Don't." Geralt warned but the heat in it had bled out. Jaskier had squeezed his eyes shut, a slight tremble emanating up through his body that he blamed on the movement of the very active washing machine rocking around against his back, digging almost painfully into the dip of his hip. He was sure he would be sporting bruises from it tomorrow morning if he managed to survive that long.

Seconds ticked off to minutes as Jaskier waited with bated breath. He dared a peek out at the dimly lit world that he swore would be his last, only to find Geralt slowly retracting his hand with a tender sort of care that Jaskier couldn't believe. What followed, the musician truly thought he was imagining, as balanced carefully in the man's hand was a disturbingly large black and tan moth. It clung to Geralt's fingers as the man cradled it close and gazed down almost fondly at the small creature, seeming to forget he had Jaskier still pinned against the washing machine.

"What the heck is that?" Jaskier blurted, only to be hushed by Geralt as the moth stilled in his hand. He held it up closer for Jaskier to see, spying the concerning signature markings on the moth's head. 

"It's a Death's Head Hawk Moth." Geralt explained, raising his other hand from where it had clasped Jaskier's shoulder and now, with the same gentleness he appeared to reserve only for worrisomely sized insects, pointed out the same stark white patterns that formed the eerie resemblance to a skull. "That pattern gives it its name. They're completely harmless." He went on to explain as the moth shifted in his palm and started squeaking almost annoyedly at the man.

"They have an attitude though." Geralt chuckled warmly. His golden eyes softening with a peculiar sort of fascination and wonder that seemed so _wrong_ when on the battle worn features of such a large and terrifying man. It wormed away a nugget of guilt seated deep inside Jaskier's gut at his brash insinuations.

That was it. Jaskier had gone insane. This was not the same man that was just growling menacingly at him a moment ago. Jaskier must be dead, he swears by it, even as he watches Geralt drift away half distracted as he lets the moth crawl over his hands and up along his shirt sleeves. He gave a half hearted "Mind watching my stuff while I take this little fella outside?" Not even waiting for a response as he wandered off into the hallway and left Jaskier in the basement. Alone, flustered, confused and so unbearably aroused that he had half a mind to march back up to his apartment for half an hour to tend to his _problem_ while he waited for his laundry to finish. 

Instead, he did none of that and waited impatiently for his stupidly handsome neighbor to come back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt your regularly scheduled thirsting to bring you this piece of Jaskier and Ciri bonding! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Cirilla? What are you doing out here?” Jaskier’s voice rose quietly in the hallway as he inspected the youth, sprawled out by the entrance on the floor. Her head was propped up on her dark green military style backpack, her platinum blonde hair wrangled up into a bun with the long rippling waves of white gold falling out of place to pool against her jaw. 

She had a pair of jeans on, faded in the knees that gave that rebellious teenage look, a dark blue top with a similar dark green jacket decorated in patches that Jaskier could only assume she picked up at a military surplus store. Her overly large sleeves were swooped down to her elbows in a messy pool as she played on her phone, headphones plugged into her ears but by the curt shift of her gaze, bright blue eyes landed on Jaskier, humoring his question with a soft. “Hm?”

She reached up to extract one headphone, her legs crossed at the ankles casually with her combat boots bobbing to a tune that Jaskier could just barely make out with the faint humming of the melody. Some popular pop song, it sounded like. These days, most of them sounded all the same and often left Jaskier rolling his eyes in boredom.

“Everything alright?” He asked carefully, lingering by the door of his apartment. He had been on his way down to get the mail when he noticed her form blocking the end of the hall. It wasn’t a problem. Both his and Geralt’s apartments were on the very end of the corridor and there were no doors or stairs on this end. It meant for a quieter place for Jaskier to practice without being a disruption or being overheard.

Cirilla raised a quizzical brow at him before giving a slow shake of her head. She paused in momentary consideration, the way that stubborn teenagers often do before releasing a sigh of resignation. “Nothing is wrong _per se_.” She started, sitting up to pull her bag against her side. She worried her lip between her teeth as she shrugged. “I was supposed to go hang out with a friend today but they had to cancel last minute. I had already left to wait downstairs and forgot my key.”

“Ah.” Jaskier hummed. “I see. Well, where is your dad?”

“He had to go to Toussaint for an appointment at the VA Center.” She explained, gesturing vaguely with a slump in her posture. 

“Toussaint? That’s two hours away.” Jaskier balked in surprise, his eyes settled on the disappointed heap the girl huddled in, probably already anticipating the long wait until Geralt gets back. “I have to go get my mail downstairs but when I come back up, would you like to come and hang out in my place? It’s awfully better than sitting here all day. Plus I have Netflix.”

Cirilla perked up at the sound before reeling her excitement back with another sheepish shrug of her shoulders. “Dad says not to talk to strangers or follow them to strange places.” She added.

“Your Dad is a very smart man. It’s entirely up to you of course.” Jaskier pointed out sympathetically. He glanced down the hallway thoughtfully before turning back to her. “I’ll be back in a bit. If you change your mind, let me know.”

Cirilla nodded but her conflicted expression only made Jaskier’s chest tighten with concern. Corvo Bianco wasn’t a bad place and the neighborhood was extremely safe. The only crime he’s heard about happening in the area involved a couple who got too drunk and accidentally tried to enter the wrong apartment and forced the door open. It was resolved without issue by the police and fines were paid for the damages but other than that, it was safe.

It was a quick ride down the elevator to the mail room near the lobby and before long he was making his way back up to the third floor. His mind wandered a bit, shuffling over the handful of encounters he’s had with his neighbor and the man’s daughter. Often times it was just a brief passing in the hallway as Geralt looks sternly onward, one arm wrapped protectively around Cirilla’s shoulders as if the world would snatch her away if he didn’t guard her closely. She would be chattering on excitedly about school or cheerleading, regaling Geralt with all the details of teenage life.

It almost made Jaskier nostalgic for the old days of high school, the highlights of his life in Drama Club and studying music in band. Yes, he was one of those dorky guys that went to band camp, and no there was no scandalous dealings involving flutes and sausages. It was mostly uneventful, and unbearably hot. He shined over the four years of bullying and the occasional black eye and preferred to view it as a nice precursor for preparing him for the real world. 

Actually, that was a lie. School didn’t teach him anything other than how to duck and run when life got hard and listening to everything you’re told, no matter how soul crushing it is, will ensure you a safe and measly life scraping through tip jars and getting really good at flipping burgers for the next three years. The only _good_ it did was reinforce how much he despises the social norms and expectations placed upon his shoulders without his verbal consent. At least if the world was going to fuck him over, it would have the common courtesy of paying for it in advance.

Jaskier sighed heavily, scrubbing a tired hand over his face as he dismissed the aching reminders of his younger years. This was the life he chose to live, albeit a struggle, but it was his nonetheless and he refused to let it be the end of him. He had a steady set of gigs lined up each night and even pulled in a nice chunk of change after aiding a local company with music for one of their promotional ads. He wasn’t exactly a famous musician but he was working his way there little by little. It wasn’t what his parents had dreamed for him (honestly who cares about law? Lawyers walk around with big _kick me_ signs on their backs!) but he aimed to be the musical voice in another type of proverbial court. And sometimes a literal one when the Renaissance Faire came to Novigrad.

The elevator dinged as he reached the top floor, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss as he was permitted to depart the lift. He gazed down the hall and spotted Cirilla still huddled up in that same spot as before. Her headphones wedged into her ears as she tucked her knees to her chest and stared mournfully at the floor. Jaskier frowned but refused to be too pushy. He just wished there was an easier way to help her out. If he could call up the landlord and ask for a spare key for her, he would but that would still mean a few hours wait and by the time the landlord did get around to it, Geralt would already be home.

He ran his fingers through his hair, dragging the floppy brown locks out of his eyes as he huffed and headed down the hallway with his mail tucked under his arm. He shared a sympathetic smile with her but she didn’t give him a single glance. His heart sank into his chest with guilt as he opened his door and headed inside.

His resolve had landed him in a fit of indecision as he proceeded to dump his mail on the table and pace around his apartment anxiously as he rolled his thoughts around in his head trying to materialize a better answer. His gaze fell on the mound of blankets still heaped on the sofa where he had snuggled down the afternoon before to watch a movie on his laptop.

_‘That’s it!’_

Setting this spontaneous plan in motion, he gathered up both blankets, shaking them out for good measure before folding them up properly in a neat square that he set back on the arm of the couch. He gathered his laptop and the charging cord, sitting them on the sofa cushion beside the blankets then made a quick rummage through his cabinets to find some snacks and drinks. By the time he was content, he grabbed the empty laundry basket, piled everything inside for easier carrying and left his apartment.

Cirilla was still in the same place he had left her, still huddled up in a valiant attempt to ignore the rest of the world. It was a miserable attempt that only succeeded in making Jaskier pity the girl more. He knew it probably wasn’t welcome but he wanted to try. He set the basket down on the ground, the motion of white catching her attention enough to draw a quizzical look from her. Her brows knitted together as she tried to parse out what exactly her neighbor was up to. Jaskier couldn’t really blame her but he tossed a cheeky smile of delight her way and started unpacking his belongings. She withdrew her headphones hesitantly until she noticed the blankets at the bottom of the basket and the laptop Jaskier had set up. She rearranged herself and her bag as he tossed one thicker quilt across the floor against the wall and then set the snacks and drinks in the corner. His laptop was balanced on the basket for perfect eye level viewing and the second blanket which was larger than the quilt, was prepared for use. He settled down on the floor and patted the space beside him.

“Thought you looked lonely sitting out here by yourself.” He smiled up at her and she returned it with genuine warmth and a small swell of relief that leaked into her eyes. She crawled over, kicking her boots off to get comfortable and set her bag in the other corner. Jaskier tossed the larger blanket over their laps and swirled his fingers over the mouse pad of his laptop. “So, I have Netflix and a plethora of unwatched movies I need to catch up on. Think you could help me pick where to start?”

“I think so.” She smiled, settling against Jaskier’s side so they both could better see the screen. He turned the volume up and adjusted the basket until it was comfortable for them both to see.

After fifteen minutes of scrolling through Netflix and debating what to watch, they landed on a new series about a medieval monster hunter that piqued both of their interest. “My friend Dara says this is really good.” Cirilla explained. 

Jaskier nodded in approval, brows lifted in amusement as they watched the introduction scene and its quiet peace that erupted into a flurry of action which startled the musician. When the main character was shown with sword gripped in hand, Jaskier felt a warm flush across his cheeks as his thoughts lingered on the strong arms and tight back. “He’s attractive.” He hummed.

His cheeks burned hotter when Cirilla only snorted in girlish amusement. “He’s supposedly super old.” She blurted, her features scrunched up as she shook her head.

Jaskier let out his own snort of amusement at that, earning a sincere smile from Cirilla as they watched the warrior dispatch the Kikimora with expert skill. He reached over to pluck one of the bags of chips from his stash and two bottles of water from his fridge, setting them in between him and Cirilla so they could reach. Several minutes went by as they settled into the show, sucked into every detail with mounting intrigue about this mystical fantasy world painted before their eye-

“Oh god!” Jaskier nearly choked as he pawed at the laptop screen just as the hero of the series entered a tower full of incredibly naked women. Cirilla was nearly cackling with delight at the look on the musician’s face and the growing heat that washed across his cheeks and down his neck like ocean waves.

“Don’t tell your Dad about that.” Jaskier pleaded as Cirilla wiped at her eyes and stifled her slowing laughter. She reached for a fistful of chips as she smiled mischievously at him.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Jaskier.” But there was no contempt in those words. It was bubbly and light with laughter as she popped one of the salted chips into her mouth and crunched away at it thoughtfully. Jaskier hung his head in morbid resignation. His great plan had worked, yes but now he felt awkward about that little slip up. At least she was cheered up some by the incident. It made his heart feel lighter inside.

“Teenage years are the most influential years of your life.” Jaskier pointed out, giving a vague gesture with his hand. “I can certainly speak from experience how much of a pain mine were.”

Cirilla played with the edge of a chip between her fingers as she frowned down at it and sighed. She popped it into her mouth and dusted her hands off on the front of her jeans, ridding them of the excess salt. Jaskier winced as he could recall his mother screeching in his ear about greasy stains on his clothes from similar activities. He assumed Geralt wasn’t a stickler for such mundane things. The man, for all his terrifying stature, was rather lax in how he handled situations.

His thoughts shifted back to the encounter in the laundry room a week ago and how puzzled Jaskier had been, even after Geralt returned. The rest of their night had been uneventful as Geralt finished his last load and left before Jaskier could even move his wash into the dryer. But the energy in the room had settled from terrifying and electric to something calm and invitingly platonic. As if an odd understanding had fallen between them without the necessity for speaking on it. The massive man cradling a soft moth in his palms certainly added to it, the way that whole ordeal disarmed Jaskier and left him floundering for some sense of stability. 

“You mentioned before that you and your Dad moved around a lot.” Jaskier started, breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy fog. It made his skin prickle with indecision as he rolled his words around with intense scrutiny but his curiosity tended to win over his common sense. “Was it hard?”

Cirilla gave a small bob of her shoulders as she reached for her water and took a dainty sip to wash down the salt in her mouth. Her nails tapped on the plastic in idle motion as she worked out her words with just as much thought and care. “It was, sort of.” Her gaze flitted from the bottle where she dragged her nails along the wrapper, peeling it away from the plastic and rolling it against her palm.

After a moment, she heaved a sigh and admitted. “Geralt isn’t my real dad.” 

“What?” Jaskier blanched, jaw agape before he could catch himself and correct his expression to something more sympathetic. This sounded like it was going to hurt.

“He adopted me a few years ago.” She corrected. “I knew who he was. He’s known my family since before I was born. He saved my real dad’s life in the military. They had been close friends for many years and Geralt worked with my Grandmother, Calanthe.” She gave a shuddering sigh. Her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she spoke more quickly, pushing through the hard part.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was five years old. My grandmother took me in but she died from cancer two years later. With no family left, Geralt offered to take me in. He filed the paperwork and adopted me.” She looked up at Jaskier and gave a small weak smile. “We lived on base for a while but we ended up moving around as he found work to support us both.”

“I’m sorry about that. Truly.” Jaskier offered but felt the words fell flat on his lips. There was no words, no amount of sympathy that could make that sort of childhood alright. Pity and sympathy were a double edged blade that was unwanted more often than not. “You’re a strong girl, Cirilla.”

She grimaced and shook her head. “Please, just call me Ciri.” Her words were punctuated by an elbow jab in Jaskier’s side that made him grunt. For her size, it had power behind it. He let out a verbal huff and looked down at her, catching the curl of her lips as she salvaged her good mood with that rejuvenated mischief. 

“What do you do for a living?” She tried for a change of topic, leaning back against the wall as she stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes in her brightly colored socks. They were dotted with little swallows swooping across the blue and green landscape.

“I am a musician.” He spoke with a hint of pride weaving through his words but it floundered briefly with a small dramatic slump. “Sadly that life doesn’t pay as well as you’d think.”

Ciri’s eyes widened in surprise nonetheless as she leaned into his side before twisting around to get a better look at the musician. “Really? What do you play? Do you have a YouTube channel?”

Jaskier grinned, amused by her interest as he rolled his eyes around in contemplation and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I might. It’s not the best or even very popular. I mostly film gigs I do at Renaissance Faires to promote the ones in the area.” He reached for his laptop to show her, pausing in his actions as he turned the device so the screen was out of Ciri’s eye sight before exiting out of Netflix and switching to his YouTube channel. He pulled up one of the more popular catchy tunes he’s done and set it in full view of her once more. 

“Nice outfit!” She blurted, eyeing the gaudy purple silk uniform he wore with the shiny material and god awful stripes. “What are you supposed to be?”

Jaskier gasped in mock distress, eyes wide as he harped back. “ _I_ am a bard!”

“A bard?” She tilted her head to the side, caught between paying attention to Jaskier and watching the video as he pranced around a drinking hall singing _Toss A Coin_ while the entire establishment revels and joins in. Jaskier was very proud of that ballad and he got the idea while really drunk one night in one of the Faire’s taverns.

"A bard." He confirmed. "Bards were musicians that played in the Courts of Kings and Lords, their messages through song could uplift a city or end a Monarchy. They had great power back then. A well written song could change the course of history."

"That sounds like a fib." Ciri hummed knowingly, her head tipped back so she could meet Jaskier's gaze, as if trying to judge his worthiness and honesty through his eyes alone. She narrowed them, the soft blue pools lacked the heat and determination that Geralt sported, but it amused him nonetheless to humor her attempt. He chuckled softly when she submitted, retreating back to YouTube as she reached out and picked another video to watch.

Their afternoon carried on with one video after another before they switched back to Netflix to watch a family friendly comedy series instead. Jaskier had gotten up part way through to plug his laptop into one of the outlets in the hallway before settling back. 

It was late afternoon when the sound of footsteps stirred him from an unintentional sleep. He blinked bleary eyes and gazed down at the warm weight tucked against his side. Ciri had fallen asleep next to him, her head balancing on his shoulder and his arm completely numb. The laptop continued playing the videos despite their absence. Beyond that, the looming titan of a man fell into focus as Jaskier quickly realized Geralt had returned home. His brows were knitted together in puzzlement as he surveyed their makeshift camp in the hallway.

Jaskier offered a small smile in greeting as he murmured, lifting his free arm to gesture at Ciri in answer to an unspoken question. "She forgot her key."

The raised brow was a silent acknowledgement that Jaskier assumed meant he wasn't at risk of being murdered for spending time with his neighbor's teenage daughter. It was a small victory which he would celebrate had he full access to his other arm. And possibly full feeling in his ass. The floor had left him numb and sore but he didn't dare move lest he wake Ciri.

Geralt had no qualms about that as he crouched down beside her. Even at this level he was massive and intimidating. Those eerie golden eyes and their inhuman shape focused solely on the girl as Geralt reached out to touch her shin, giving it a small shake. "Hey kiddo. Time to wake up."

The softly mumbled words of refusal were accompanied by the small stretch of her legs, nearly knocking into Geralt's own leg in the process while she stretched. The older man had to dodge her arm with a tilt of his head as she moved with a lack of spacial awareness. She palmed at her face haphazardly and inspected her surroundings with mild confusion before the day's events caught up with her.

"Oh, you're back." She huffed out, sitting upright and away from Jaskier so the musician could collect himself and start putting his things away. He powered down his laptop while Ciri gathered her shoes in hand.

"Mmhmm. I thought you were going to Dara's." Geralt asked, that low rumble sending shivers down Jaskier's spine but he reined it in and kept his mind on one harmless track. Besides, he was pretty sure his lower extremities were too numb to respond yet, thankfully.

"His mom has a cold and had to cancel." Ciri explained as she pushed up to her feet and swayed for a moment. She corrected herself as she dragged her backpack over her shoulder in a lazy manner. Geralt joined her, straightening up as he turned to unlock the apartment door and ushered her in. He let her go in ahead, shutting it to give the pair a modicum of privacy.

"Thank you." Geralt started when he caught Jaskier's eye. The smallest twitch of a smile spread on weary features. The man looked tired and wrung out, a state that Jaskier could sympathize with and associated with the immense stress of the moving process. 

"You're welcome, Geralt." Jaskier answered, he paused, rolling the words around in his mouth before adding. "She's a- she's a real sweet girl."

Geralt cocked a brow at that, stepping closer when Jaskier stood up himself to try and work the blood flow back into his legs. The musician froze, gazing up at those amber eyes with an inkling of doubt that he might have made that sound sketchier than he meant. "Uh, she told me about you. About what you did for her when she lost her family." His voice dropped low. A quiet sympathy woven through his solemn words. "I can't imagine what that sort of life would be like, but she seems really strong and you're a really good dad to her."

"Hm." Geralt grunted, his head cocked to the side as he listened to the apartment door. His eyes fixed on Jaskier, giving the musician the sense of being pinned against a wall, or a reminiscent experience of the laundry room incident. Jaskier rested a hand on his hip and inwardly winced at the phantom presence of those bruises that remained.

"Hey Dad!" Ciri's voice interrupted, causing the older man to step back out of the musician's space. Both their attention swiveled towards the door where she hung through the entrance with one hand on the knob. 

"What is it Ciri?" Geralt rumbled out.

"Can we order pizza for dinner?"

"Sure, why not." He lamented with ease. Jaskier started to turn away, letting the pair engage in their domesticity until the next question had him jolting in place. 

"Can Jaskier come over for dinner?" The playful notes of teasing in those words were not lost on the musician and from the surprised look on Geralt's face, they hadn't failed to greet him either.

Geralt turned his attention towards the musician with an expectant look. Ciri's own gaze fixed on him and Jaskier never felt more like a mouse between two cats. There was a smoldering fire of trouble that brimmed beneath Ciri's expression, as if she were eagerly stoking the flames to a well anticipated blaze. 

"Well?" Geralt asked, waiting for the musician to answer. 

"I- uh-um well…" He cleared his throat. "If it's alright with you." He gestured to Geralt with all his mass that blocked a good portion of the hallway now that he got a better look at their surroundings. This man was unfairly large and Jaskier couldn't help the cornucopia of thoughts that hailed.

"You heard the kid." Geralt huffed out a breathy sound of amusement as he tossed his head towards the door of their apartment.

Ciri was eager to chip in, leaving to help Jaskier finish cleaning up the mess in the hallway while asking questions like what kind of pizza he liked in between telling Geralt about the videos of Jaskier singing on YouTube and if Geralt knew what a bard was.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a lovely morning. The birds singing on the balcony railing, the warm sun beating in through the windows to warm Jaskier's skin. And the obnoxious rumble of a motorcycle being revved repeatedly in the parking lot below. Jaskier groaned in annoyance, peeling one eye open long enough to see that it was currently 7am and whoever in God's name decided that this was the time to try their best impression of Sons of Anarchy, was a complete and total asshole. Jaskier had half a mind to crawl out of his bed to throw something down at them. The idea was tempting but his bed was comfortable and warm and he decided it was better to bury his head beneath the pillow until they left. 

It lasted five minutes, and Jaskier's nerves were frayed by time the low rumble of the bike rolled out of the parking lot and out onto the main road leading to the highway. By then, Jaskier simply tossed and turned, cursed the clock and the sun and all that was horrid about mornings. Especially when the musician didn't get to bed until 4am after a late gig two towns over.

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time he fell back asleep fully, and he relished in the peace and quiet until he woke up again around noon. This time, to his alarm clock going off irritatingly. He heaved a weary sigh and dragged himself out of bed in nothing but his pajama bottoms and set about his routine. Once freshened up for the day, he slipped into a pair of grey sweatpants and a comfortable pink t-shirt with an old faded logo on the front from a Breast Cancer Awareness event he attended and performed at years ago. It was faded and washed out from wear but was one of his lazy junk shirts.

Jaskier grabbed his ukulele from where it was propped on a shelf in his living room, portrayed like a lovely work of art, before making his way out onto his balcony. He had two potted Kong Rose plants set up on a small bench lining the wall of his balcony, with a flat of strawberries growing in between and an aloe vera plant sat beside them. Standing taller beside the bench but resting on the floor was a very large tomato plant adorned with several lush green tomatoes already starting to turn red. Jaskier took a moment to inspect the foliage, touching the soil with his fingertips to check the dampness before seeming satisfied. 

Against the railing of his balcony sat a hammock that he slipped into with practiced ease and stretched out in like a lazy old tom cat in the sun. He stroked a couple cords on his instrument to test its tuning, hummed a pleased note before proceeding to play  _ Somewhere Over The Rainbow _ , singing softly to himself as he swayed in slow side to side motions on the hammock.

He played the song for several minutes, his voice crooning sweetly in the afternoon air and drifting out over the parking lot. The noise of traffic during lunch rush and the distant wail of emergency sirens were a fleeting disturbance to his thoughts. He finished it and seamlessly drifted into another song, slipping into an easy rendition of  _ Can't Help Falling In Love _ . His voice lifting as Jaskier closed his eyes and left himself drown in all those pent up crazy feelings he had wound tightly around his heart. 

His thoughts summoning images of his neighbor across the hall and all their weird little encounters. Of having dinner at their apartment for the first time, the three of them gathered around a table devouring pizza and chatting as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years. The nerves melted out of Jaskier, all his fears and apprehensions towards this man, this god of physical prowess with a snarly voice that softens so sweetly for his daughter and hands so gentle to care for the most fragile of creatures. A man with so many shadows and mysteries buried behind him as Jaskier attempts with tiny shreds of hope, to shine a light on them and find the answers that will let him come closer and see the big bad wolf for what he truly was.

Geralt was the muse for his art and the driving force that swept away his thoughts. He shattered Jaskier's worrying mind and left the musician carefully piecing back together his reality after being offered the brief Sanctuary from the woes of his life. Each time was an ethereal encounter as if the man himself was inhuman and otherworldly. Like a Fae King from old northern tales. A fearsome deity in the disguise of a humble father. It certainly made for spectacular material as Jaskier wrote his ballads for the summer Faire, bringing new material with him to unveil to the world of medieval roleplayers and actors. His fair and fearsome White Wolf, so handsome and devilish, casting nets upon his heart and leaving him open and bare to the world. 

Of course that was a crude over exaggeration sparked by Jaskier's sleep deprived state of mind. And possibly influenced by the t.v series Ciri introduced him to. He now can't help but envision Geralt in the place of the mysterious monster Hunter, with that low timbre of his voice rolling out those threatening lines as he levels a sword at someone's throat. That piercing amber gaze that seems to see right through him. That all too knowing smile quirked at the corner of his mouth when Jaskier says something slightly embarrassing or potentially witty.

And when the night wore on, leaving Jaskier and Geralt alone in the apartment as Ciri slipped off to bed. It  _ was _ a school night after all. Jaskier had never felt so nervous before, like he was getting away with something he shouldn't, alone in the privacy of his neighbor's living room. The two of them huddled up on the couch, of course at their own respective ends with a bowl of abandoned and nearly empty popcorn sat between them. The t.v turned low while they talked quietly, more interested in the conversation than the topic of the program. Jaskier was more interested in staring into those amber jewels, feeling the heat of that gaze silently pressing back. The little crook of Geralt's jaw that was so enticing when he'd growl out a joke or make a smart quip, matching Jaskier's well collected words with his own armory of verbally charged weaponry. If flirting were a sword fight, Jaskier would be an esteemed fencer but Geralt was a true knight with a blade. Matching every robust parry and flourished twist of his wrist with a firm clash of steel and razor edged wit. For a man of brutish proportions, Jaskier was almost giddy to delve further into the archives of knowledge secretly held within the others thoughts. The deep aspirations and dreams of the world around them, the philosophical theories that flitted back and forth until Jaskier couldn't refrain from yawning with weariness and Geralt was rubbing at his eyes in sympathetic agreement.

They departed so sweetly, with quiet nods of gratitude for the evening well spent. It had certainly been a long time since Jaskier properly socialized with grown adults that weren't explicitly interested only in sex or were completely smashed from a night of alcohol and copious bad decisions. It was nice to be able to have an intelligent conversation with a very sober person who coincidentally was also incredibly handsome to boot.

Jaskier strummed a few more cords on his instrument and relaxed his head back against the netting of the hammock. His thoughts dancing merrily around every sweet moment of being in Geralt's presence and the warm familiar ambiance of his small apartment that was still slowly being unpacked. It wasn't necessarily cluttered, with the bare necessities out on display for guests and the lighting substituted by several well placed battery powered storm lanterns hung up around the room. It was cozy and apparently Ciri's idea when they realized the lamps were still packed away but they had found the lanterns instead.

It was a lovely idea in Jaskier's opinion and had him considering getting some fairy lights to decorate his balcony with and maybe a couple of those lanterns as well. His gaze flitted up to the open space that he considered purchasing more hanging pots to fill the void with. But some well placed lighting would make this spot very romantic. 

"As if it really needs to be." He sighed heavily. "Not like I bring anyone home to see it anyway." He stroked his fingers over a few more cords and hummed. The sound was overcome by the low familiar rumble of a motorcycle rolling into the parking lot. His head popped up over the railing as he eyed the offending rider who woke him so abruptly this morning. He cruised in with a little black number and made his way towards the small storage garages down at the lower level. Covered head to toe in black leather and a helmet, it was hard to Jaskier to figure out which one of his annoying neighbors was the asshole and considered giving them a piece of his mind. 

It may have been rather petty, but Jaskier was feeling bold and maybe a bit curious at the same time. He jumped to his feet and returned his instrument back to its shelf before grabbing the key to his mailbox and his shoes. He took the lift down to the main entrance where the boxes lined one wall near the main office and took his time opening his mail slot and rifling through the junk mail and bills that awaited him. He grimaced at one of the envelopes, quickly burying it and acting as if he hadn't seen the name labeled in the corner. Family drama aside, he much rather avoid that mess altogether and sweep it under the rug of non-existence.

He was mildly distracted when the door opened and in walked the rider. Jaskier's head snapped up when the dark figure approached the boxes, the musician stepped aside out of habit to clear a path and froze. The man was tall and broadly built, the heat from the sun rolled off of the black jacket and radiated back towards Jaskier, causing him to look up and meet a familiar set of hauntingly golden cats eyes. Tucked under Geralt's arm was the black helmet, tipped upside down to currently hold his riding gloves and keys while he shuffled through the thick stack of mail that awaited him. Jaskier swallowed thickly and cursed his drab appearance when standing next to a living god of muscle and flesh. His pale blue eyes skimming over the tight fit leather pants that accentuated Geralt's ass deliciously and suddenly Jaskier was thankful for his baggy sweatpants.

"Good afternoon, Geralt." He greeted with a warm smile, the nervousness ringing through his voice in small tremors.

Geralt hummed in return, flipping through a few envelopes and sorting them out. Jaskier caught a glimpse of Ciri's name on a few that Geralt set to the back of the pile before shoving them inside his helmet as well. He turned those intuitive eyes upon Jaskier and cocked a brow. Jaskier swallowed thickly as the white hair normally so neatly tended to was messy, as bangs fell out of the hair tie and into Geralt's eyes in little white feathery curls. It only drew the musician's attention to his eyes more and  _ God he couldn't look away now _ .

"Afternoon Jaskier." Those eyes raked up and down along the musician's body, drinking in the slender frame shaped by the comfortable outfit. Jaskier felt very small and exposed in that moment and hoped to all that was holy that Geralt didn't notice his unseemly thoughts. "No work today?"

"Uh- no actually. I have a job tomorrow night." He answered as smoothly as he could which could be a nice resemblance to a bull romping around a China shop. It was embarrassing to say the least as he fiddled with his mail like a school boy stumbling upon his crush with a pocket full of valentines.

"Really? Where at?" That low rumble was so terrifyingly pleasant that Jaskier was starting to worry about his personal taste. If it ran along the lines of  _ barbarically animalistic and savagely primal. _ But being prey had never felt like a more appealing idea than it did right now. 

_ 'Get a hold of yourself for five minutes Jaskier!'  _ He cursed himself. "The Alchemy, it's a club over in Oxenfurt."

Geralt nodded. "I've heard of the place. Go there often for work?"

"Sometimes. I used to be a regular patron there back in my college years so it's funny going back as a performer." He eased into the conversation, familiar and less troublesome terrain for his thoughts. Geralt nodded towards the lift as the pair started to walk and talk. He chased away his unsavory and inappropriate thoughts, focusing on Geralt's eyes and not the rest of his leather clad and muscular figure. He could still feel the heat rolling off of the man's shoulders when they bumped closer together. The scorch of the sun against his back on a long ride. The day had fabulous weather for it too so he couldn't necessarily blame him for utilizing it.

Taking a long look over the dark fabric, Jaskier noted the large wolf head patch on the back of the jacket, expertly embroidered with the name  _ Wolves of Kaer Morhen _ surrounding it in bold white block letters. The eerie red eyes of the imagery was intimidating to look at. There were a few other patches seen into the shoulders and on the front. One of which Jaskier could see better now that they were in the lift and Geralt was turned towards him.  _ White Wolf _ was above his left breast, easily noticeable with the bold white lines against the black.

"I didn't know you had a bike." Jaskier started, switching the topic to avoid bringing up any embarrassing college stories that seemed inevitable were he to stay on that track. Instead turning it back towards his ever mysterious neighbor. 

"Yeah, Roach. I've been riding her for years." Geralt cocked his head to the side, a small gesture easily missed alongside the almost imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips.

"And a biker gang as well?" Jaskier teased out. "Am I gonna expect rough housing rogues storming through in the middle of the night now?" It was said in a joking manner but Geralt directed a single raised brow at the musician. He snorted softly at that which eased Jaskier's concern that it may have been ill perceived.

"It's just a bunch of old friends that like to ride. One of them got an idea for the jacket design while drunk so now we all have them." He explained with a half aborted gesture of his hand. Jaskier chuckled softly as the lift opened and they stepped out onto their floor. 

"It's definitely interesting. Very  _ grrr _ ." Jaskier teased, making an exaggerated growly expression that pulled an amused smile from Geralt. Jaskier counted that as another victory as they headed down the hall and reached their respective apartments. "Well then, I'll not take up much more of your time. It was nice seeing you again Geralt."

"Mmhmm. See ya later." He purred out, a low hum that seemed to vibrate through Jaskier's nerves and were it not for the fact he had already turned towards his door, his neighbor would have definitely seen the cherry red hue that his face had taken on. The warmth bleeding through his body with a shrill excitement creeping beneath his skin. 

Jaskier promptly shut the door behind him, slipped the lock in and decided that maybe he could use another shower. It was a terribly  _ hot  _ day after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the songs mentioned in this chapter are:
> 
> Body Talks by The Struts  
> Main Attraction by Jeremy Renner  
> Sanctuary by Welshly Arms  
> Genius By Written By Wolves  
> Timber by Kesha and Pit Bull
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter that has copious amounts of flirting in it. Enjoy!

The Alchemy club was jam packed, which wouldn't really be a problem normally, were Jaskier not the sole performer for the night. The club itself had its own band on hand, but would often bring in special guest performers on certain days to freshen up the variety. With it being a college town and a weekend, it was busier than Jaskier had expected. It wasn't until he overheard one of the bartenders mention during set up, that exams had just finished so everyone was celebrating another semester gone.

He organized his things, checked the sound and mics once more in preparation and adjusted his guitar on his lap. He had a bar stool beside him with a bottle of water and his phone resting on it, as he perched on his own stool for comfort. The band played and there was a tip jar next to the mic stand for anyone interested in tossing some extra his way. The band had a list of songs that Jaskier intended to start the night out with and they played accordingly as people started moving into the club and the night wore on. 

Half an hour into his set, he noticed a familiar head of white hair and a dark leather jacket enter the mix. Jaskier felt his heart jump into his throat as Geralt meandered up to the bar, the crowd seeming to part like a wave as heads turned to inspect this large and dangerous looking man. Young women in skimpy outfits gravitated towards him while he ordered two drinks. The musician felt his chest tighten up when Geralt gave a small barely there smile and spoke to the girls. 

Confusion burst in his chest when Jaskier noticed them pouting, their hands falling away from where they groped and caressed his shoulders seductively. Then Geralt turned with two glasses in hand and headed to a table tucked in the shadows of a far corner. Another man that Jaskier hadn't noticed come in, was already waiting for him. His short dark hair was closely cropped but unlike Geralt who was in black, black and more tight highly flattering black. This other man was dressed more stylishly and befitting of the club crowd.

In the low light, it was hard to pick out details but Jaskier could tell he was in a dark pair of jeans and what seemed like a nice button up shirt. A navy blue maybe? Sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a nice tweed vest. Jaskier had half a mind to assume Geralt was here with a date, though the other man seemed to have nicer taste in style compared to Geralt's spartan amenities. The musician felt mildly self conscious about his washed out faded jeans and the lavender silk button up he was wearing as he strummed the chords for a slower song. 

It was a request that fell into his tip jar as several couples wanted to dance to something a bit more romantic. Jaskier sang slowly, softly and watched the groups sway together. Others settled down at their tables to chat or drink. Jaskier's eyes never wavered from Geralt's table as the pair seemed to talk animatedly. He ignored the cold sting of jealousy that crept into his heart and made him grind his teeth through the instrumental portion of the song. After that, he took a small break and let the band take over, starting in on something more energetic and bouncy to get people on the dance floor once more.

Jaskier drifted to the bar to get a drink, settling on something non-alcoholic but fruity to take the edge off of his steadily growing foul mood. His gaze dragged towards the rest of the establishment as he spotted Geralt once more, enjoying whatever drink he had in his hand while his companion gestured enthusiastically, regaling him with some topic or tale. It made Jaskier bristle unpleasantly and make his way back up to the stage to take back over.

After a brief chat with the band, Jaskier prepared the next song. His eyes scanned the crowded room until they landed in Geralt very pointedly. This may have been out of spite or a very bold move aided by the convenient cover of his current job, but he was feeling free and reckless tonight. He aimed to make a statement and he was going to do that.

He tapped his foot in rhythm with the beat as the band started up, his words ringing out over the speakers as his eyes slipped shut and he relished in the upbeat and daring song. " _Your eyes follow like a spotlight. Two eyes like the sun_." His blue eyes opened to meet those curious amber orbs now piercing the darkened room to pin the musician in place. It was appraising and thoughtful, a predatory smile pulling on Geralt's lips. Jaskier's heart fluttered with a beat of triumph.

" _Go ahead, keep your distance from me._ " He gestured theatrically, his body swaying on stage as he sang. The band played out the music wonderfully, keeping pace with him. " _Soon you're gonna come._ "

He tossed his head to the side, adjusting his tone mockingly as he carried the next verse, supposed to be sung by a female partner, Jaskier was going to carry this by himself. " _When you flick your hair like you don't care. And ask me where I'm from_."

He straightened up and belted out. " _That game that you're running baby, you've already won."_

" _I need to know, know, know? Whaddya need, need, need? Whaddya like, like, like?_ " His hips swayed to the music as he pulled the mic free of the stand and strutted across the stage, giving his all to this performance. True, it may be a cover of a song but he was going to give his best to embody all the bundled up emotions conflicting inside him and aim it all at that one special thorn in his thoughts. It was simply a bonus that the crowd of people dancing before him seemed to really get into it as well.

His gaze challenged Geralt as he finished the verse. " _Cause I'm gonna be it tonight_." He tossed his head and twisted to carry out the rest of the song, manifesting all of his attitude and spite into his words as he belted it out with skill and enthusiasm, securing the patrons attention and dragging them into the swell of energy that bustled around the room. Of course this younger crowd ate it all up. Wild and unruly as they were, just waiting to break free and let loose.

As Body Talks ended, Jaskier slid into a steady rendition of Main Attraction, his eyes never leaving Geralt's figure in the back booth. The older man's gaze had been fixed firmly on the stage now and Jaskier smiled devilishly in response, knowing he secured his big bad wolf's attention away from his date. 

_"Now baby let's ride! We got nothing but time."_ He belted out, one hand raised in the air before he lowered it to point out at the crowd. His soft blue eyes never wavering from Geralt's inhuman gold. _"You get all the reactions. You're the main attraction."_

Jaskier winked at Geralt as he watched the man's partner get up from the bench seat and leave the white haired man behind. Geralt didn't even blink at their departure as the well dressed date made their way into the thick of the crowd and was quickly lost to the gyrating bodies and the growing stench of alcohol, sweat and intermingling perfume.

Jaskier was on a roll, taking a break from the fast pace to something steadier that he could stand in place to sing. Sanctuary by Welshly Arms which was followed up again with Genius by Written By Wolves and capped off with Timber. He was panting and grinning by time he took a break several songs later. His legs were shaking from the excitement as he came off of stage and his tip jar had grown substantially. It was a pleasant night to say the least and he had secured his wolf's attention through the whole thing. The band took over again, allowing Jaskier a break to rest his voice and get a drink from the bar. 

A familiar figure in black sidled up beside him and rested his hip against the curve. "Someone is enjoying himself." Geralt purred, a rumble that spread goosebumps across Jaskier's body with brief thoughts of lewdness. He cleared his throat and accepted his drink from the bartender, something that would give him more of a buzz now. _As a reward for a job well done._ He told himself slyly.

"Hm? Ah, yes." He chuckled, playing the humble fool. "You didn't say you come here often." Jaskier teased, taking his drink and turning to face his neighbor more completely. He caught a glimpse of the man from earlier approaching them with a broad grin on his scarred face. Jaskier winced, only noticing it now that he was turned so the musician could see the deep shadowy indentations that stretched up the right side barely passing his eye.

"Lambert wanted to go drinking but Eskel wouldn't babysit him." Geralt spoke loud enough for the other man to hear, drawing his attention as Lambert in question ordered himself a drink and stood on the side opposite of Geralt. His eyes leveled on Jaskier with a spark of sudden interest causing the bard's stomach to drop out in surprise.

What he thought was first a trick of the lighting had in fact been wrong. Lambert shared the same piercing inhuman eyes as Geralt. Golden and catlike. Black slits where a normal pupil should be. The musician froze, his drink halfway to his lips as he stumbled over his thoughts. 

"Wait a sec, this is the guy that you said was your neighbor, right?" Lambert spoke up, hanging over Geralt's shoulder with a dismissive grunt. The white haired man looked only mildly annoyed by the invasion of personal space but it didn't deter his friend from doing it anyway. His arm looped around Geralt's shoulder as he pulled him tight against his side. "He looks kind of scrawny to me. Snack sized maybe?"

"Lambert." Geralt pressed firmly, swatting the man in the side of the face with the back of his hand. It was an idle flick of fingers that made him flinch back. "Behave or I'll have Eskel give you a ride home."

Lambert scowled. "You're no fun, Wolf." Shaking his head, he accepted the drink from the bartender and smiled pleasantly at it as he mixed the shots into the booze and chugged it down like a well practiced champ. "Maybe your bard here will help you loosen up and pull that stick out of your ass."

Lambert grunted as Geralt's fist met the man's gut. Jaskier winced, a sympathetic response at the brutality until he noticed it didn't affect the man in the slightest. He returned the 'friendly' hit into Geralt's shoulder before flitting back. "Unlike a spoilsport like you, I've found me a pair of twins to keep me company."

"Be responsible." Geralt reminded, a curt sound that resembled a growl which Lambert brushed off with a dismissive wave and got a second drink to go. He disappeared to another booth where these said twins occupied.

"Who was that?" Jaskier asked after a moment. 

"Buddy I used to serve with. He's the one I mentioned before that got drunk and designed our jackets." He shrugged dismissively. "Why?"

"No reason." Jaskier sipped at his drink and felt the weight of relief lifting off of his shoulders.

He was not able to avoid the inquisitive brow Geralt raised towards him. A breathy chuckle huffed out of his chest that drew Jaskier's attention. "What?"

"Did you think I was here on a date?" Geralt asked, a look of genuine thought leveled on those rough features. Jaskier felt the urge to reach out and touch them, to reshape them into something pleasant and fond. But amusement was a nice secondary. 

He frowned and turned his head away with a shy blush. "No. Well, maybe. I wasn't sure."

That deep timbre of laughter rolled out like thunder in Geralt's broad chest. His lips quirked up in an intriguing and rather dangerous smile that did things to Jaskier that he probably would never admit. "I had a feeling." He chuckled. "Cute."

_Wait-what_? His thoughts stumbled and the heat grew more fiercely across his cheeks. A rosy red that he blamed on the alcohol and the excitement of his performance. He felt light headed and airy, but not in a bad way. His head dipped down with a shy smile. Geralt's hand lifted hesitantly to brush the stray strands out of his face so he could better see the musician. And just like that, Jaskier felt like he was sitting on the man's couch again, neck deep in thoughtful conversations and gazing into each others eyes like fanciful teens.

One thing lead to another and they had quickly delved into deep conversation, simulating that peaceful evening they enjoyed after Ciri had gone to bed. They had hovered away from the bar when it got too busy and settled on the stage steps just out of view. Jaskier gathered up his jar and his instrument case, packing it away for the night while they chatted.

Geralt's hand settled on Jaskier's shoulder as the musician sipped at his third alcoholic beverage, growing more easy going as the night wore on. Geralt smiled in a way that left Jaskier's walls crumbling against his guard. His head swooned with delightful flurries of excitement as that low voice promised him pleasant pretty little things that involved more _comfortable_ accommodations. The charm was too much to resist.

"What do you say?" Geralt asked, his voice dropping low to a feral rumble in Jaskier's ear. The musician felt the heat growing across his face and for once he couldn't rightfully claim it was the alcohol at fault for it. He lifted his drink, taking another sip of the fruity concoction that was fondly named Sex on a Beach and considered where exactly this invitation will lead them.

"What about your friend?" Jaskier asked, his voice dropping in volume, almost shyly as he gazed up at that looming figure, muscular shoulders relaxed into an easy line, the silvery white hair reflected the kaleidoscope of colors that danced around the room. Those inhuman amber eyes that glowed so fantastically and lured Jaskier in like a moth seeking a forbidden flame.

"He'll be fine." Geralt tossed his head in Lambert's direction where the other man was currently sandwiched between two drama majors adorned in pink feathery boas. It took Jaskier a moment to focus and realize that at least one of them was male and honestly, that wasn't the strangest thing he's seen at The Alchemy. "He came looking to have fun and get laid. They look like they'll take good care of him."

"Or possibly rob his wallet." Jaskier offered, earning a breathy chuckle from his neighbor.

"He can handle himself. He's a big boy. If not, then we'll never let him live it down." Geralt mused, resting a steadying hand on the musician's shoulder. For the first time all night, Jaskier felt at ease. Geralt's touch melted away the tightly wound bundle of nerves that had curled into the pit of his stomach and left him jittery and off kilter all afternoon. Or maybe it was just the alcohol finally catching up to him. 

Either way, he couldn't recall what exactly made him agree but before he realized it, he had packed up his belongings and they were headed back to Corvo Bianco. This time, in Jaskier's car. Geralt had left his keys with Lambert so he'd be able to get home later and took up the position of designated driver for them both. Jaskier hadn't exactly thought that far ahead and was relieved he didn't need to worry about getting a cab or leaving his car in the club parking lot.

It was a whirlwind of racing thoughts intermingling together the whole ride home and even lasted until they reached Geralt's apartment. Jaskier hadn't a rational thought in his head when the door shut and he found himself pinned against the hard wood. Geralt's large frame caging him in place as strong hands moved ever so gently along his hips. One hand lifted to catch under Jaskier's jaw, a small teasing motion that was met with a gentle clash of lips. For all his fearsome size and brooding posture, Jaskier didn't feel the slightest bit of fear or apprehension towards the older man.

His fingers danced along his shoulders and outlined the hard edges of leather cut over muscle, traced playfully against the nape of his neck and twirled taunting circles in the stray strands of white that fell free of their ponytail. He tugged gently, feeling Geralt press them chest to chest as teeth grazed Jaskier's bottom lip. He could taste the citrus on his tongue, the linger bite of the booze that burned in the back of his throat and spurred on this moment of courage that fluttered in his chest.

Their hips ground together, a small roll enticing the musician closer as Geralt looped an arm around Jaskier's waist. The low growl that teased out was smothered by the warm press of Geralt's mouth outlining the dip of his throat. Jaskier's eyes fluttered shut as he tipped his head back, nails raking against the leather padding of Geralt's shoulders as he whined pitifully. His arousal tight in his pants as warmth flushed his skin with anticipation. But some part of Jaskier cursed his racing thoughts and wandering hands. His fingers stilled their desperation as he forced the words to form on his lips. 

"Geralt." 

"Hm?" The man grunted, the itchy tickle of his beard rubbing against the dip of Jaskier's jaw as he peppered another kiss. Those sharp golden eyes leveled on him, half lidded and thoughtful. They narrowed with a split second of concern as he drew back to catch his breath. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Jaskier breathed, feeling his heart thud heavily against his ribcage as he tried to gather his wits. His legs trembled, knees weak and body _wanting_ but gods forbid he give in on impulse. "I just...." He sighed heavily. "I might be a little drunk and I don't want either of us to have any awkward regrets tomorrow morning." He gestured.

Geralt appraised the man with a tight smile, a sobering look settled into his eyes as he conceded with a nod of understanding. "I get it."

"I'm sorry." Jaskier mumbled, shoving the jumble of emotions inside of him down as he dropped his hands to rest against his chest. "You are _really_ attractive and I would love to- you know. I just-"

Geralt silenced him with a gentle kiss, warm calloused fingers catching him under his jaw ever so lightly. They played along his skin, drawing his hair out of his face as they parted. Geralt's eyes meeting Jaskier's as he breathed. "I understand. We can go slow. Think it over, if you like." He offered. An easy out. 

Jaskier cursed himself for his indecision but he nodded slowly. "Thank you." A firm arm guided him away from the door, easily directing him so that Geralt could open it. Jaskier smiled sheepishly and offered another apologetic look. Geralt soothed it with a small yet genuine smile as he braced against the door frame. It was a welcoming sight that the musician would normally savor and devour on the spot, but unlike past experiences, he didn't want this relationship to just be another faceless fling. It didn't feel right in his gut, didn't settle well deep inside.

Instead he graciously thanked Geralt for the help getting home safely and his assistance earlier in the evening before returning to his apartment. It was a quiet rest of the night as Jaskier turned into his bed and traced the phantom sensations of Geralt's lips on his skin with the tips of his fingers and closed his eyes to savor the wolf's intimidating size pressed against his smaller frame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, there is a Witcher discord that you can join. It's for the Witcher fandom of all media types!
> 
> https://discord.gg/kqUcxgT

To say Jaskier was embarrassed was an understatement. He woke up the morning after with the bitter taste of alcohol in his mouth and the shameful ache of a hangover sneaking behind his eyes and making the whole world feel a little too bright and surreal. He decided to stay pent up in his apartment for the day, only leaving long enough to collect his mail and get his belongings out of his car downstairs. As he was making his way to the lift, he passed by the figure of a thoroughly disheveled Lambert, whistling pleasantly to himself. His clothes were in disarray and wrinkled to high heaven, probably from whatever fun he apparently got up to in the night. His skin was smudged along his collar with pink lipstick, his hair was combed haphazardly and sprinkled in glitter and Jaskier caught the edge of the pink feather boa crammed into his back pocket. He could smell the alcohol still lingering on his person, mixed with the fragrance of something far more pleasant.

The musician skirted around the man, catching the briefest flash of those inhuman golden eyes as he left the building. Jaskier skittered towards the lift, settling his guitar case over his shoulder as he slipped inside and rode it up to his floor. He was thankful to have avoided Geralt, feeling somewhat foolish now in how he conducted himself the night before. It wasn't entirely a fuck up by his standards. He did manage a modicum of decency by slipping out of a potentially horrid decision. Sleeping with nameless Johns in bars was one thing, sleeping with your hot neighbor seemed to require at least some code of conduct that also had a sub article about if said neighbor also had a friendly teenager who also likes hanging out with you. 

Jaskier hid away like a little mouse in his apartment until his hangover released him from its disreputable clutches. The next days consisted of him resting his voice, playing his songs and working on a new set of original pieces before his next gig. He had a pencil clenched between his teeth, balancing a notebook in his lap while he adjusted a few notes on his guitar, swaying back and forth in idle motion when a knock came at his door.

Jaskier cocked his head to listen, half expecting it to be Zoltan stopping by between jobs to see how he's fairing. But the knock was far too soft for it to be that brute. There was no voice hollering for his attention either. He sat up and steadied himself on his feet, tossing his notebook onto the hammock beside his guitar and tucked his pencil behind his ear. His bare feet padded across his apartment, relishing the warmth that bled into the wood flooring from the sun pooling through the windows.

He peered through the peephole and found a surprising figure on the other side. Jaskier slid the locks free and opened to greet the blonde bob of hair that swayed impatiently on the other side. Cirilla had her headphones in as per usual, her foot tapping to the beat of whatever song she was listening to, swaying to the beat with a soft hum in her throat. Her green eyes perked up upon noticing Jaskier, her smile split wide in greeting. 

"Hey Ciri. Something wrong?" He tilted his head to search the hall for Geralt but it was silent. The door across the hall was shut and showed no sign of the older man. 

She disarmed his worries with an easy laugh. "No, not really. I was wondering if you could help me with my homework. Geralt's at work and I have an English assignment I'm really struggling with." She scrunched her face up with a disgusted look, rolling her eyes at it. Jaskier could sympathize with that.

"Oh. I'm sure I could give it a try. It has been a while since I've been at school, I'll give you fair warning now." That earned an amused smile from Ciri who groaned. 

"At least you're not as _ancient_ as Geralt. I'm pretty sure his schooling involved stone tablets and chisels." Jaskier let out a small laugh at that, stepping aside as he permitted Ciri entry into his apartment. He quickly cleared the kitchen table of the scattered notes and papers piled high from his creative process and procrastination, clipping them all together and setting them aside.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water, lemonade, coffee?" Jaskier flitted about, pausing to eye Ciri for a moment as he asked. "Are you old enough to drink coffee yet?" 

"Jaskier." She gave his shoulder a teasing swat. "I don't believe there is a legal age limit on the consumption of coffee."

"Well there should be. It's highly addictive." Jaskier rounded the counter to enter the kitchen.

"Water is fine, please." Ciri called before adding. "If you're so concerned about coffee, I think you should see what energy drinks kids my age buy."

"I'd really rather not." Jaskier replied, coming around the corner with two bottles of water from his fridge. He set one in front of Ciri as she started digging her homework out of her book bag, making herself right at home at his kitchen table. Seeing her place her notebook on the table reminded him of his forgotten belongings on the hammock which he quickly left to collect, returning as he continued his complaint. "You have no idea what that stuff does to the body. You know people have died from high consumption of those drinks?"

"Geralt told me about it." She replied easily, fingers catching the stray strands of blonde that fell out of her carefully placed hair clips. She tucked it behind her ear as Jaskier joined her at the table, hands folded in front of him as he fiddled with the pencil from earlier between his fingers.

His leg bobbed idly under the table, a restless bounce that made the dark grey fabric of his sweatpants rustle. It was a comfy day and Jaskier had been enjoying it in his lazy day wear which was atrocious to say the least. Washed out and old. Though he doubted a teenager would judge him for being an occasional slob.

"So what is this English homework about?" He asked, tapping his pencil on the table. 

"It's a book report really. But I'm having a hard time putting my views on the book itself, into words." Ciri lamented, resting her chin in her palm as she held the book out to Jaskier. It was a worn out copy of The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. The top corner was laminated and marked with a number and the designated class in which it belonged. It gave Jaskier a momentary nudge of nostalgia, settled into the old cramped desks with his fellow classmates, book open before him as they take turns talking about what they learned from the events of the novel.

It was a nice reflection of the societal views of youths and how their own perspectives color their personal ability to succeed and the peer pressure of those around them. Limiting one's self to the status quo of their peers and their ability to achieve higher goals simply by the cliche they have found themselves in. Jaskier of all people, was a fine example that what _social status_ you're born into does not define a person and their available talents and opportunities of success. It's a personal preference above all else.

"Let's see what you have so far and the theme of the report." Jaskier asked, reaching over to inspect the assignment sheet the teacher had handed out to the class. His eyes scrolled over it with keen interest, his lips quirking up in mild amusement as he sighed, turning his attention to Ciri's pitiful opening lines which were very few. Judging by the doodles along the margins, she spent a lot of time staring at the paper to no avail. Jaskier could sympathize. English was a favorite of his but having the suffocating restrictions on projects made it in turn, oppress his creative flow. He's narrowly avoided failing entire assignments by pulling the information out of his ass in a mad scramble merely an hour before class. It was atrocious work but he couldn't spread his wings properly when the educational system kept a lock firmly on his cage. He highly doubted that his English teacher would accept a notebook of sonnets and ballads as ample excuse for his lack of productivity on yet _another_ essay.

He'd rather explain the flaws in a belief system through scathing ballads and flowery prose than the carefully augmented paragraphs of an essay that was the literary equivalent of eating a salt block.

As Jaskier flipped through a few pages of the novel thoughtfully, Ciri shifted in her seat as if she had something to say but was uncertain how to approach it. Jaskier raised a curious brow her direction and was met with a sheepish smile. "What are you up to?" Jaskier asked, eyeing her closely as she fiddled with her pencil. 

With a heavy sigh, she relented. "Uncle Lambert mentioned that he and Geralt saw you perform the other night."

Jaskier nodded and paused. "Uncle? Geralt never mentioned that Lambert was his brother. He just said they served together." Jaskier's voice trailed as Ciri's eyes widened suddenly and she turned away, focusing her attention on the paper in front of her as she shifted nervously. "Ciri?"

She worried her lip between her teeth as she spoke. "Well, they're not related. Lambert and Eskel are just close friends. Like Papa Vesemir. They all _lived_ together for a while. When Geralt was in the military."

Jaskier watched her eyes duck to avoid his gaze, an anxious tick worming it's way inside the musician when something didn't quite make sense. "Lambert has the same eye color as Geralt. And his pupils look _off_ in the light."

Ciri blurted quickly. "Please don't tell Geralt I said anything but-" she caught herself and shifted anxiously, coaxing a finger at Jaskier to move in closer. She glanced around the room with a heavy look of suspicion as if the walls themselves had ears growing from them before cupping a hand over her mouth. Jaskier obliged her request and scooted closer, his heart thundering in his chest as he wondered what could possibly have Ciri in such a state of panic.

"Geralt, Uncle Lambert, Uncle Eskel and Papa Vesemir are all from the same secret military program." She murmured, tilting her head to catch the incredulous look that flashed in Jaskier's eyes. She pressed her lips into a firm line, one finger toying with the headphone hanging around her neck. "People don't normally notice they're different. It's in their eyes."

"Their eyes?" Jaskier repeated, one brow raised incredulously. 

Ciri nodded. "The experiments that were done on them made them all have the same eyes. They're like, super soldiers. But something happened and they left. Geralt doesn't want anyone finding out about it because then we'll have to move again." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting uneasily. "Please, promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise I won't breathe a word of it to anyone." Jaskier vowed, one hand raised and then offered a pinky promise. "You're not too old for these, are you?"

Ciri rolled her eyes and shook her head, accepting it with an innocent smile. She dutifully resumed working on her homework, leaving Jaskier to bask in this new bit of information. Now that he thought about it, it did make sense in some strange twisted way. The way Geralt moves, like a wolf on the prowl. That gaze that seems to see through everything, the knowing look in his eyes that make Jaskier think he can hear his thoughts or even his heart beating away like a stampede in his chest. That big broad build that is so intimidating and tantalizing. And of course the little things. How vague he can be at times, how protective he is of Ciri and the fact they've moved around so much.

How else could he chalk up Lambert's resemblance to the elder man? Those same eerie eyes and the deep facial scarring. That similar predatory look like a big cat spying a helpless bird singing sweetly to hide its broken wings. If this Eskel and Vesemir were anything similar, it could only make him wonder what had happened and if they were potentially dangerous? Jaskier's seen enough action movies in his life time to know that government secrets don't see the light of day, especially super soldiers. It curled in his stomach, a paranoid worm that conjured up the fear of secret black ops agents appearing in his bedroom as they storm the complex looking for the pair.

Then there was the fact Ciri was a pretty close resemblance to Geralt. He could almost admit they looked related, distant cousins maybe? Her parents had died and her grandmother, maybe it wasn't coincidence and accidents like she claimed. Had they come after her as well? 

_Get ahold of yourself!_ Jaskier shook his head, disbanding his wild imagination before it gets the better of him. _This is ridiculous. Preposterous! This only happens in_ **_movies_ ** _and that's it!_

He took a deep breath to settle his racing thoughts and extravagant inner monologue, instead turning his attention back on the matter at hand. Ciri's homework, which was the top priority. He focused his attention on the paper, rifled through the book a few times to refresh his memory on the story, and before long Ciri had an entire report finished. She bid her goodbyes and her gratitude to the musician before returning to her apartment, leaving Jaskier to wrestle with this new view on his neighbor and the potential danger he posed. And by danger, his traitorous body decided that meant excitement and shifted to a state of arousal that was highly unnecessary for the situation. But hot damn, imagining Geralt as a sexy stunning super soldier like that one superhero comic he's seen popularized recently, was far too enticing. He wouldn't mind being rescued by a man of steel like that.

"I really need a social life." Jaskier whined, plopping down onto his couch and sighing. His brows pinched together as he ran his fingers through the floppy brown locks and implored his libido to give him one night of sanctuary away from lecherous thoughts. He was far too gay for this bullshit and he didn't even have the luxury of being able to burn it off with a partner. Which was universally unfair. But so was the fact he lacked the motivation to crawl out of his apartment to mingle in _yet another_ bar when he already does that too much for his job.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this wonderful art piece of Modern AU Ciri that @dazedandinked did on tumblr!!! Please go check out there art and give them lots of love!! They are absolutely amazing!
> 
> https://dazedandinked.tumblr.com/post/190649242545/oh-god-jaskier-nearly-choked-as-he-pawed-at-the

“Dan-de-lion!” The loud voice belted out the fond nickname like a cheerful war cry, which more or less only further secured the plethora of stares directed their way. Jaskier’s cheeks burned hotly in embarrassment as he bolted to his feet to greet his old friend in the middle of the busy cafe. His coffee nearly tipping, a close call that almost ruined his only decent pair of blue jeans before laundry day. 

Zoltan Chivay was a businessman unlike any you would ever expect to meet. For one, he had dwarfism, but where he lacked in height, the man boasted in personality and attitude. It was a very charming trait that Jaskier couldn’t help but be drawn to when the man was strong arming bouncers at a club in Novigrad proper just for shits and giggles. He had made a bet with the larger man, and promptly obliterated him in a contest of strength. For a man who wears an expensive suit day in and day out for business reasons, it would be hard to expect him to fit the gatling guns he calls arms into the finer clothing. But the man managed it, surprisingly enough.

And, as unrivaled as he was at drinking and brawling, he was a sharp investor and trader. He has accumulated highly influential clients all over the globe that bring big bucks to the table and has a hand in the pockets of even more prominent figures in the cities surrounding them. For what he couldn’t fight for, he could certainly pull a few strings on and secure a trade agreement or find a solution nobody else would even consider.

But for all his adventures, exploits and experiences, he still had an open mind and would seek Jaskier’s counsel where law was mentioned. Jaskier didn’t like others knowing his family history, but with Zoltan’s power also came the knowledge with it on who all the big names in the State were. Who to talk to and who to avoid. Jaskier’s family was among those notable people, and along the line, Zoltan discovered Jaskier was more than just a pretty face playing in the bar scene. Of course they had been friends before this nugget of truth was mined out of the mountain of bullshit that was his life. On top of that, he also discovered Jaskier’s old performer’s alias.

Jaskier had an early understanding of law and a knack for sussing out loopholes and flaws in contracts and tricky agreements. Especially when those promises and agreements involved his parents and Jaskier’s own spiteful nature wanted to slip around their demands with careful word play and critical analyses on the situation and sharp deductive reasoning. 

His parents would have been proud of his skills, at least he would fool himself into thinking so, if he hadn’t utilized all they taught him in his early years, to silently go to war against them and their desires for his future. He refused to follow their footsteps in life and become boring old lawyers that spent their days stressed and miserable, acting as stern emotionless drones that only interact when necessary for work reasons. He won’t lie, he had everything he could have asked for growing up, _except_ emotionally available parents. Something that can’t exactly be wished for on Christmas morning or find as a surprise birthday present.

Jaskier ignored all the years of baggage he had hopefully left behind him and offered a fond smile to his friend instead. Zoltan settled in the seat across from him, kicking back while he waited for his drink to be made at the counter. His hair was neatly trimmed, a fiery ginger hue that was styled in a close cut mohawk, short but still eye raising. A similar ruddy beard stretched across his jawline and framed the lower half of his face. It was trimmed appropriately with a bit of class and looked well groomed and almost soft to the touch.

Yet, even with the dark suit, he looked less like a businessman and more like a member of a crime syndicate. Which was a common joke between the pair that they would laugh fondly about. Jaskier looked even more out of place sitting beside the man with his faded jeans, converses and the turquoise button up he donned for the warm afternoon. His sleeves were neatly rolled to the elbows and a pair of sunglasses were tucked in his breast pocket. His chestnut hair was tousled from the light breeze that picked up in short intervals, and the stressful combing of his fingers as he waited with combined anticipation and prolonged boredom. And maybe also because this was his third cup of coffee today and he was _feeling_ it.

"What have ya been up to ya rascal?" Zoltan's grizzled voice rumbled out like gravel ground beneath a hard force. It was comforting to the musician as he smiled down at the man. It wasn't long ago, in fact, that he recalled Zoltan showing up at one of his summer performances in the Ren Faire scene, dressed in peasant wear with a battle axe strapped to his back. It was a fond sight and image which Jaskier kept on his phone. They had been friends for years now, and he couldn't imagine confiding in anyone else about his problems or concerns. 

"You know. Same old, same old. Playing in bars, navigating the tricky ins and outs of dating, hitting on my hot neighbor who I suspect is a super soldier on the run.." His voice trailed off as Zoltan raised a bushy brow with an incredulous look. He scratched at his jaw, a thoughtful expression on his face as he inspected the cup being rattled around in Jaskier's hands nervously. 

"How many of those have ya had today?" Zoltan nudged a hand towards the coffee, a flick of his thick fingers in Jaskier's direction. 

"Two technically. Of this specific kind. I had a plain cup this morning at my apartment." He rambled off, shifting the cup between his fingers and set it aside pointedly. "But like, it's not that Zoltan. My life is a great big confusing mess right now."

"Chivay?" A voice called from the counter, causing both Jaskier and Zoltan to turn. The latter hopped off his stool and approached the counter to collect his drink order, before returning to continue the conversation. He didn't even wait to get back in his seat before he was already talking. 

"So this neighbor of yours, he's caught your interest?" He prodded, taking a long swig of his coffee and relished in the bitter black brew with a deep groan of contentment.

Jaskier balked and narrowed his eyes at Zoltan. "How do you know they're a _he_?" The musician challenged, realizing he never specified their pronoun.

Zoltan gave him an amused look with a breathy chuckle. "Were they a lass of extraordinary beauty, you'd have said so in far more words. Instead, you clarified them as _hot_ which entails they're of the male perspective."

Jaskier retrieved his cup and resumed fiddling with it idly. His nails raking over the brown slip around the body that protected his palms from the residual heat and inspected the carefully scrawled intricate script of his name in sharpie, with little flourishes and curls. He knows the barista was flirting with him, and he would have utilized the opportunity to return the favor with his number and some very flattering words.

"He is very attractive, I'll admit that. He's unfairly tall and big, has broad shoulders and muscle chiseled out of stone like Adonis. Gods, he is the most attractive man I have ever met." Jaskier cut himself off quickly with a heavy sigh. "He is also a single father."

"And…? What part in all this makes ya think the fella is a super soldier other than his muscles." Zoltan teased out.

"He has golden eyes like a cat's, long white hair that is entirely natural, might I add. And he has a background in the military, which he said so himself. He's battle scarred and wary, and so frustratingly intimidating at times." Jaskier abandoned his cup to run his hands over his face, hiding the growing blush that sprung forth as his traitorous mind very kindly reminded him of the night in the laundry room. How many times had he revisited that scene in his head while tucked into the safety of his shower? Far too many for Jaskier to count when his clever hands worked him through whatever fantasies he was occupying.

"He sounds certainly different. Though I wouldn't be pulling the inhuman cards on him quite yet. Maybe he has an anomaly? A rare eye condition of sorts?" Zoltan rationalized, giving his beard a thoughtful scratch before smoothing his fingers through it.

"I thought so too, until I met another just like him. They both came to the Alchemy Club where I was performing. Same crazy inhuman eyes _that glow_ , I swear. And all scarred up." Jaskier dropped his voice conspiratorially. "I mean it Zoltan. There are more like them. And his daughter even said they move around a lot to avoid trouble."

"Ya've talked to the lass?" Zoltan seemed surprised by that. 

Jaskier flushed and gave a sheepish shrug, returning to fiddle with his coffee. "Well, yeah. She's a really smart kid. She comes over to work on homework sometimes and invites me over to their place for movie nights and pizza."

"Mmhmm. Sounds like there isn't much to worry about. Except, that you're actually interested. Not to sound crass or offend, but you are more likely to bed and run than _date._ " The elder man gave a low chuckle at the sheepish expression on the musician's face. "My, my little Dandelion is finally growing up."

"You're not that much older than me, you know." He chastised back but couldn't avoid it when the other man hopped onto his seat and leaned over to ruffle up his hair with one big palm. Jaskier shrugged out of it, batting at the wayward mess of his bangs now made fluffier and hanging in his eyes. "Hey! Zoltan!" He whined, gaining a deep hearty laugh from the older man.

"All this scifi nonsense aside, I think it's good that you're getting yourself out there in the dating scene. Finding something that pleases you and whatnot. It _does_ please you, doesn't it?" Zoltan inquired, a small tilt of his head.

Jaskier relaxed back in his seat, the childish warmth fluttering in his chest like a lovestruck teenager. He couldn't help but recall the kiss at Geralt's place, the hours spent sitting on his couch just _talking_ like normal people. How enlightening and freeing it felt to be himself without any expectations and no underhanded desires daring to be met. They could just be close and there wasn't the fear of someone barging in and calling them out, or the needless anxiety to take it faster. He really did like that. 

"It does." Jaskier finally admitted. "It really does. I really don't want to mess this up and I feel like I came close to it once already." The barely concealed groan was swallowed back with force as he exhaled deeply and drummed his fingers on the table. "This is all so new to me and I don't know what I'm doing, Zoltan."

"Chin up Lad." He rumbled out. "You're sharp as a tack and more clever than the devil himself. Just take your time, don't overthink it and just live for the moment. Let it come naturally."

Zoltan chuckled after a minute, staring at his cup regretfully. "This feels like something that should be celebrated over something harder than this shite." He mused. "But I have to get back to the office. Oh, by the way. I've got this little problem with a contract. Care to give it a critical once over?"

Jaskier smiled, a wry and splendid smile as he held his hand out. Zoltan barked out a laugh as he pulled the contract up on his phone, flicking to the problematic document and sliding it over to the musician. Twenty minutes later, Jaskier had his own phone out and had texted an extensive review of the contract to Zoltan and explained all the flaws and little weaknesses in its construction. A few choice decisions and Zoltan could secure what he was after, and void the contract that sat in his way.

"You cheeky brilliant little devil, you! I love ya to pieces." He grinned as they parted from the cafe, Zoltan throwing his arms around Jaskier's midsection in a bone crushing bear hug.

"I'm glad I could be of some help." He chimed back, patting a hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Aye, if the music business ever grows dull, you'll always have a place in the company if ya like." He offered, his voice coaxing and polished over, brows raised with a glimmer of hope. 

"I think I'll pass. I wouldn't want your competitors to get jealous or figure out your secret weapon." He joked back, resting a hand on his hip as he stepped back, straddling the edge of the sidewalk, out of the way of the passing patrons.

"Ah, it was worth a try." Zoltan spoke fondly, stroking a hand over his beard. "I bid you luck on your romantic endeavors Dandelion. May the fates be kind to ya."

They parted, a pleasant weightlessness resting on Jaskier's shoulders now that he finally had the chance to talk to someone about it. It had been days since Ciri had sat in his apartment and divulged that kind of information to him. Of course it was supposed to be kept secret and he did feel bad for breaking their promise, but if anyone could take a secret to the grave, it was Zoltan Chivay. That man was an impenetrable fortress of information that he hoarded like a magpie does shiny objects. Otherwise, Jaskier felt like he was going to burst or go insane. Zoltan's easy going brotherly nature was one of the things that drew the musician towards him and made their friendship bond so strongly.

It was a pleasant walk back to his apartment, one that Jaskier didn't mind a bit. It was warm out, the sun was shining and a cool breeze gust through his hair, further torturing his carefully placed bangs into a fitful state over his forehead and curling into upturned rings at the crown. He huffed, shook his head and carded his fingers through his hair to salvage the mess from Zoltan's playful gesture earlier that day. When his pale blue eyes lifted from the smoothed over concrete sidewalk, towards the corner that led down his home street, he spotted a nondescript looking white van.

Between the sidewalk and the large brick exterior walls of the adjacent complexes, was a familiar white haired figure, clad in black leather and sitting with his bike parked at the back of it. He was straddling the seat, his helmet tucked against his abdomen, balancing precariously near the ignition. The back of the van was open, but Jaskier's view inside was obscured by the half closed door and the two men standing outside of it. One was a very large bulky man with a sour expression on hard pudgy features, a near permanent scowl leveling on his companions as they talked. His big meaty fist waving in the air was he directed whatever he was saying to Geralt. The man didn't look happy but Geralt held a look of indifference towards him.

His bald head glinted in the light, sweaty and splotched in red marks like he'd been working hard in the sun. His clothes didn't exactly look like a laborer's, in baggy slacks and a tight dark blue button up, sleeves down and firmly buttoned around the cuffs. A few big bulky rings fit on his fists that caught the light. Jaskier cursed that he was too far away to hear them, redirecting his attention to the next man to speak after Geralt grumbled something too low for him to hear but Jaskier assumed it was more like a wolfish growl than anything else. Judging by how his neighbor's brows furrowed and his golden eyes sharpened with a dangerous edge to them, as if he were daring them to watch their words a bit more carefully.

The other companion was a man with short closely cropped dark hair, similar to military precision. He had a strong jawline, handsome in an authority sort of way that Jaskier could really go for if the mood was right. He was far shorter than Geralt but shared that same way they moved. As if every gesture and twitch of muscle was calculated with power coiled behind it. The man looked like he could kill someone without batting a single eye but shared that air of _bad cop_ on t.v dramas. Even his outfit screamed _government rogue._

He raised his hands in a placating gesture when Geralt stood up, a sharp sudden motion that made the large bulky man shift uneasily. Jaskier saw Geralt's shoulders tense, even from beneath his jacket, that hard line they formed when the man looked on the prowl. Ready to pounce on something weak and prey shaped. A curl of his mouth bared teeth as he looked quite displeased. Bad Cop continued talking, his eyes shifting between the two with wary glances like he was trying to quell a fight between a wolf and a bear. It didn't look like it was going well at first, but after a few minutes, both sides backed down and settled. Geralt said a few words before reaching for his helmet, a signal that he was finished with this conversation.

Bad Cop sighed in defeat and gave a dismissive wave. The big bear looked angry but conceded to the final decision. He turned towards the van and started closing up the doors, but not before Bad Cop stopped him. He reached around the corner out of view and retrieved a manilla envelope of some kind, passing it over to Geralt who took it in gloved hands. He didn't even give it a glance before tucking it into his bag and starting up his bike.

Jaskier lingered around the corner, listening for the sound of Geralt driving away. It took a few minutes but it came as the man peeled off down the street on Roach and disappeared around the next corner. Jaskier waited, timing his approach before heading around the corner and walking past the van. The two men were bickering in hushed tones, but he caught Bad Cop growling out the name "Sigi." The musician managed to sneak a photo of the pair through the driver's side window where they grumbled at each other in the street and continued walking. He didn't dare a look over his shoulder, too afraid that they'll notice him and there will be trouble. 

By time Jaskier reached his apartment, his heart was hammering inside his chest and a cold sweat had trickled down his neck. He fumbled for his phone in his pocket as he brought up his text messages, shooting the picture to Zoltan with a question. 

  
  


Jaskier :

_Does the name Sigi mean anything to you?_

  
  


He sucked in a breath and glanced over the image, his curiosity was piqued honestly. These men had that look about them that screamed trouble and if anyone knew the ins and outs of the most powerful (and dangerous) people in the city, it was Zoltan Chivay. They often joke that he's running a crime syndicate but that lie isn't too far off from the truth. Zoltan has dealt business with actual crime syndicates in the past. All of it legal, of course. Even criminals have safe avenues of bringing in revenue for their business and occasionally they have side hobbies, like real estate for example.

He sat his phone on the kitchen table, changed into comfy clothes and fiddled around in the kitchen to make himself a cup of instant noodles. By time he sat down, turned on the t.v, and got halfway through a movie that was on, he had forgotten about the text. That is, until he got a response back from Zoltan. 

Zoltan:

_Why the bloody hell do ya have a picture of Sigi Reuven?_

Jaskier stared at his phone with hesitation, his fingers typing quickly across the keyboard after a minute. 

Jaskier:

_Is that a bad thing?_

A minute after he sent the text, he got one back. 

Zoltan: 

_If you fancy an untimely demise I'd say so. Lad he used to be head of the Redanian Crime Syndicate. He was part of the Big Four of people you do not cross if ya want to see another day. Even I don't deal in their business._

"Oh fuck." Jaskier nearly dropped his phone, juggling it before it could hit the floor then just stared at Zoltan's text. _Why was a crime lord sitting outside their apartments? Why was Geralt talking to them?_ _And who was the other guy?_ _Is he part of this Big Four too? Is Geralt???_

There was so many thoughts racing across his mind, causing a jumbled up mess he couldn't decipher. He felt sick and incredibly confused and honestly, the noodles weren't settling well in his stomach either. He jumped up to his feet, abandoning his phone on the couch cushions as he fled to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments and kudos so far. This fic has been a lot of fun to write and I am really enjoying it. I am incredibly happy to see you all are as well! Keep an eye peeled for future updates as this is starting to really pick up! 
> 
> Also, if you like Corvo Bianco, check out my other fics I'm currently working on. I just finished Bitter Memory and have been regularly updating my newest fic one shot collection A Matter of Life and Death which is a series of interconnected one shots like Corvo Bianco is, about the adventures of Geralt, a very tired Grim Reaper and his newest companion and assistant, Jaskier, a new Angel that is learning about the world by following the incarnation of Death itself around. 
> 
> Its a fun dark take on the afterlife and all the drama that follows.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to do 2 chapters in one day so, here is the second. I hope y'all enjoy. 
> 
> Also updates for this will vary as I am bouncing between multiple fics at the moment. I try to update one at least every night.

The universe was playing games with him, he swears. 

He managed to avoid Geralt for two more days, even carefully navigated his way down to the laundry room and endured the three hours of babysitting his stuff in the supposedly haunted dingy basement. He occupied the time by editing a video of one of his performances on his laptop and checked his emails for future gigs. He had one and it was a repeat request for the Alchemy in Oxenfurt. He skillfully ignored the email from his mother that was titled very formally and quite pointedly in a way that was both condescending and demanding, figuring she found him through one of his social media contact pages. Then proceeded to answer comments added to his videos.

He managed to avoid running into his neighbor at the mail boxes and even evaded him in the hallways when coming and going to their respective apartments. Jaskier had anticipated that his luck would eventually run out and it did so early one morning. He hadn't slept yet and was about to turn in for the day after a long night of working, when a knock came at his door.

Being the apparently very gullible fool he was, he opened the door without even checking his peephole. In all honesty, he was too tired to consider it and hoped whoever was on the other side of the door was just an early morning update on building maintenance or something of the likes. Instead, he found himself face to one very burly chest in a tight fit long sleeve shirt. White hair falling in a disheveled mess as golden eyes leveled their slits on the musician.

Jaskier took a wary step back on impulse and dragged his eyes over the messy and unkempt appearance of the larger man. The dark circles under his eyes that gleamed hints of sleeplessness in his routine. His hair drawn back in a messy comb of fingers that fell off to the side over his ear. He had a gym bag hanging from his shoulder and looked disgruntled if the small scowl that fit on his hard features was anything to go by.

Geralt offered a smile, albeit tight and weary. "Sorry to bother you so early but I was wondering if I could ask a favor." He hiked a thumb over his shoulder as he continued. "Our shower quit working and I was hoping if I could use yours for twenty minutes. I gotta go to work in an hour otherwise I would just wait for maintenance to fix it."

Jaskier felt his mouth go dry and his words fail him for once in his life. His thoughts on the other hand, were having a party in his head. He shut his jaw tightly and stepped further away from the entrance, holding the door open as he stumbled for words. "Uh- yeah. Sorry. Haven't slept yet so my brain's not keeping up with uh- well...everything."

_That was lame. So incredible lame, Jaskier._ He cursed himself as Geralt strode into his apartment and glanced around. Jaskier realized with a small note of nervousness, that while he's been to Geralt's many times and Ciri has been to Jaskier's place, this was the first time Geralt had been to the musician's place. He swept it with a critical eye and commented as he followed Jaskier towards the bedroom.

"Cozy place." Geralt hummed, his gaze falling on the balcony as the soft morning light filtered through the sparsely hung curtains. He could see the hammock that was set up outside, surrounded by the lush greenery of his plants. Jaskier was grateful that he was a habitually clean person, a trait nurtured relentlessly into him in his formative years by his parents. His room was neat and tidy, nothing obscene shared for the world to see. Not even a single wrinkle in his bedding or a hair on his pillows. The only clutter that existed was mainly contained on his kitchen table and those were roughly organized stacks of notes and sheet music.

Jaskier guided Geralt to the bathroom, which he realized would be an exact mirror of Geralt's own apartment layout. The only difference being things were slightly flipped. This showed in Geralt's momentary puzzlement as he got acquainted with the placement of the bathroom installations. "If you need to borrow towels, they're in that cupboard." He pointed out helpfully and semi awkwardly.

"Thanks but I brought one with me." He held up his gym bag in answer before placing it on the open space beside the sink. Without further prompting, Jaskier shut the door behind him and headed back to the living room, plopping down in his favorite spot. The sofa was starting to get an impression from his body where he constantly laid, the cushions wearing beneath his weight as he settled into the niche.

The musician listened for the water to start running and caught that telltale whistle the nozzle caused when the hot water was turned on. It would fade after a minute, but it was there.

_This sounds like a terrible opening to a poorly made porno._ Jaskier screamed inwardly, burying his face in his hands as he sank further down the couch and lamented into the throw pillows. Hot single dad from next door asking to borrow the shower? Jaskier could already imagine the scene as steam rolls out from beneath the door before it opens, exposing the chiseled figure of sculpted muscle, modestly wrapped in a towel that will coincidentally fall off when someone mentions blowjobs. The steam curling off of warm damp skin, hot breath on his neck and strong hands caressing his hips as he's dragged back towards the bed to fall into the carefully made sheets.

_That's horrible. Entirely unrealistic._ Jaskier amended, shaking the thoughts with sharp dismissal from his head and abandoning them along with all the other absurd mutterings his tired sleep deprived mind could conjure up on the cusp of bedtime. Normally he would have to concern himself with these thoughts when _he_ was the one in the shower- _oh no._

That made it so much worse.

Jaskier's cheeks burned hotly against his palms as his thoughts were flooded with far worse images. Geralt catching him rubbing one off while the hot water cascades down his shoulders in steaming pools that race down his back, outlining pale skin flushed pink from the warmth. The larger man flashing a dangerously sharp lascivious smile as he crowds into the tight space and pins the musician up against the cooler soft blue tile walls. The moan that would inevitably slip from his lips as the weight of Geralt's chest presses against his back. The rippling muscle against his skin, the hard hot length pressed against the cleft of his ass in tantalizingly slow rolls, hips teasing Jaskier with what he wants most. Nails digging into his hips and the sharp bite of teeth grazing the tender skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

The sultry look in those amber eyes, staring him down with inhuman slits drawn sharp like a lethal blade tucked into the shadows. Jaskier would bare his throat and his soul to its edge just to feel the man rutting against him. To taste his lips again, sweetened by alcohol and soft under his tongue. To feel the pinpricks of strong hands gripping him tight, winding fingers into his hair in taut tangles as his head is drawn back and the wolfish smile leaves blackened blossoms across his skin. Every suckling sensation that popped free would be bathed in the pleasures cries of the musician, trembling and wanting beneath the beast's touch. Oh, man or monster, he didn't care. He just wanted to touch, be touched and to _feel_ something that no other person could make him feel. No one night stand or daring clusterfuck of partners and pairings at salacious parties with questionable methods and morals. No other thrill could compare to how he felt at the end of the big bad white wolf's teeth.

Jaskier was drawn out of his revelry by the sudden agonizing silence driven by an absence of water. He blinked as his awareness returned and he could hear the quiet shuffling of movement as items skittered on the countertops in the bathroom. He waited, the soft ticking of the wall clock in his kitchen was interrupted only by the idle movement of Geralt in the bathroom. Five minutes passed on to ten, and Jaskier felt that inkling of weariness creeping back on his thoughts as sleep called out to him like a long lost lover. The state of his current arousal apparently could be damned as the temptress that was his bed sang sweet siren songs to him.

When he heard the door to his bathroom squeak open, he craned his head to peek over the back of the couch and spy his neighbor as he returned. His belongings were shoved back into his gym bag, neatly zipped shut as he rounded the corner into the living room. Geralt's white hair was tied up but still damp, wrapped into a haphazard but loose bun with a few stray strands falling rather seductively in front of his eyes. Which, Jaskier noticed, oddly enough, were almost _normal_ looking. 

They were still the eerie golden color but his pupils looked blown wide, possibly? _Like a cat's._ Jaskier's brain supplied. _When they're on catnip._ The image of Geralt snorting lines of catnip in his bathroom was almost enough to quell his unwelcomed arousal as he shifted to sit upright, fully facing the man now. 

A pair of blue jeans fit snug to his hips, appropriately accentuating his ass and its charming shape. A rather handsome one, Jaskier would admit as his eyes dipped down to the man's thick muscular thighs then darted back up towards the dark long sleeve that covered his torso. The heat of the shower left a lingering flush on Geralt's pale cheeks that only magnified the pinkish scarring over his eye and above his brow. As he passed, Jaskier caught the soft whiff of his soaps, something minty and spring like mixing with something softer and floral. Maybe berries of some kind? He couldn't really pinpoint the exact scent but whatever it was, it was pleasant and uniquely Geralt.

"Thanks for letting me use your shower." He nodded, an appreciative tone settling heavy in that pleasant rumble that made Jaskier shiver with anticipation. His traitorous thoughts and body doing are they please with that tidbit of information as he returned the gratitude with a gentle innocent smile. 

"You're welcome. Anytime." _No, not. Stupid._ He inwardly cursed but it was too late. He rose to his feet to bid Geralt a polite farewell.

The other man gave him a silent once over and gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry if I kept you up past your bedtime." 

"It's no problem." Jaskier chimed, a surprised cheerfulness flavoring his words, as warmth fluttered in his chest. The considerate comment was a surprise but a welcome one. His smile was more awake and genuine as he watched the other man head off for the day to whatever job awaited him. Jaskier did his best not to fill the blanks in with worst case scenarios of nefarious schemes and illegal dealings. He truly did want to see the good in all this. Geralt was a sweet man and an excellent father. He couldn't imagine, or well, actually he could which only made him feel even guiltier for it.

He resigned himself to just heading to bed for the day, dragging his feet along as he locked up his front door, double checked his phone before plugging it in and setting the alarm for later. Then proceeded to check the state of his bathroom. It was clean, and Geralt had mopped up any droplets on the floor or residual water from the moisture with a towel, then hung it up to dry. The air smelled strongly of that uniquely _Geralt_ scent and it trailed into his bedroom with the humidity of the shower air.

Jaskier groaned in defeat as he battled against the two sides vying for his attention. His unrelenting arousal or his bone deep exhaustion. Eventually, he caved to the former which eventually led to the latter after a quick change of clothes and washed hands, then succumbed to the blissful and somewhat explicit dreams that awaited him.


	9. Chapter 9

Familiar laughter bubbled up from the hallway as Jaskier was leaving his apartment. His head snapped up in question, prepared to find the wolf pup and potentially the big bad wolf Papa that followed it. But he was surprised to see Ciri leaving the lift with someone else entirely. 

Now, Jaskier knew teenage girls often had lots of friends, especially those of the male aesthetic. Though, most of those friends were _boys_ in every definition of the word, and not what appeared to be a 30 something year old man. To make matters worse, Jaskier realized Geralt was nowhere around and mildly remembered hearing his bike leave the apartments a few hours ago and hadn't heard it return. Jaskier would know, he had been lying in his hammock on the balcony when he watched the big bad wolf peel off out of the parking lot on Roach.

He toyed with the set of keys in his hands as if he were checking over to ensure he had everything, his head tilted down just so, to keep the illusion of being busy. His ears catching the older man warmly calling Ciri _Sweety,_ and handing her the flowery pink shopping bag that he had been carrying when they left the lift.

From this angle, Jaskier could see the man was big, definitely tall and almost on Geralt's level. He had shaggy brown hair parted down the middle and broad shoulders fit into a thickly padded red flannel jacket. It looked like something that would be worn in the cooler days of fall and not what was looking to be the dog days of summer. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms and buttoned in place with finger cut gloves covering his hands.

At first glance, he looked like a wanna-be punk and honestly, Jaskier was growing uneasy with how the man rested a hand against Ciri's back with such familiarity and the way her eyes lit up as she smiled. Sure, he was just her neighbor, but with Geralt gone, he felt the sudden urge to play Big Brother and scare the big punkish looking man away from the impressionable teenage girl.

"Oh, Jaskier!" Ciri blurted suddenly, jolting him out of thoughts. He greeted her with a warm smile, turning to face both of them as they closed the distance. Ciri jumped towards him excitedly, reaching into the military green backpack hanging on her shoulder as she unzipped it. Her hand easily fished out a white sack carefully folded and taped shut with the insignia of the local bakery. "I got you some cookies as a thanks for helping me out with my homework the other day. I got an A+ on that book report."

She held them out to the musician as Jaskier took them surprised by the thoughtful gift. "Oh, thanks. That's awesome, Ciri. And you were so worried about it." He teased, his attention shifted towards the man who stepped closer to Ciri, one hand resting idly on her shoulder. Jaskier could almost call it a protective gesture of its own, and if that didn't rile him up more. He was about to say something when Ciri beat him to the punch.

"Oh crap. I forgot, you haven't met Uncle Eskel yet, have you?" She perked up, her head craning as she glanced between the two men. Jaskier faintly recalled the name being mentioned to him before. Eskel kept a cool gaze leveled on Jaskier, which he noticed was that same eerie golden coloring. The pupils were slits but this shade was softer in its vibrance. Less commanding of his attention and could be mistaken for a hazel or a caramel brown in the right lighting. On the right side of his face was a mass of scarring from the corner of his mouth, something Jaskier didn't notice earlier since the man had his head turned away from him.

"Like Lambert?" Jaskier asked as Eskel offered the protective hand that had been on Ciri, to greet the musician. His lips twitched up into a small smile, barely there and tight. It pulled at the puckered scarred skin on the other side of his face in a way that Jaskier assumed was uncomfortable.

"You've had the misfortune of meeting him already?" Eskel asked, his voice low and deep, not like Geralt's with its growly nature but more like a bass that thundered. "Oh, wait are you that musician that was playing at the Alchemy?"

Jaskier's cheeks took on a pink flush of embarrassment as he was recognized though, he hoped it wasn't for the reason he thought it was. "Yeah."

"Lambert told me about that when he came home. Had all kinds of stories about that night but the most tame was probably about your performance. Said you killed it." He chuckled. "It takes a lot to impress Lambert, I'll tell ya."

Jaskier felt a wave of relief wash over him in one long exhale. He let his own pride swell in his chest as he drank in the flattery with eagerness. "That's good to hear then. I was a bit worried since I was off my game that night." _And too busy jealously pining over Geralt from the stage._

Changing the topic to something far safer than his musical endeavors that prowled a little too close to his love life, he turned his attention back to Ciri. "So, what have you two been up to? Out shopping?" Jaskier nodded towards the fistful of bags and pouches that cluttered Ciri's hands and were shoved recklessly into her bag.

"I spent the weekend at Eskel's farm and we stopped by the farmers market this morning on our way back. I got a bunch of stuff for Dara and Geralt." She chattered on, starting to show Jaskier the different things she picked up. Some of which were genuinely interesting, like the homemade goats milk soaps she purchased with varying highly pleasant scents.

Eskel stepped back to let the two chat, his arms folded over his chest as he observed Jaskier with close scrutiny while the musician inspected the little trinkets and baubles Ciri showed him. He smiled and chuckled at some of the stories she regaled him with about Eskel's flock of goats that he raised on his farm and the new babies from Spring and all their mischief. She even showed him a video on her phone that she took for her snapchat.

"That's cute." Jaskier agreed, glancing towards Eskel with a sheepish smile. "Well, I don't want to keep you two out here any longer. I gotta get going myself." 

"Okay!" Ciri chirped excitedly, tucking her phone back into her pocket and digging for her keys to the apartment. Jaskier lingered long enough to ensure she could get in, before departing.

"I'll see you later and tell your dad I said hi if you see him." Jaskier called. 

Ciri hung out the door halfway and hollered back a quick. "Will do!" With a thumbs up as her and Eskel entered the apartment. 

Being left to the silence of the hallway and eventually the lift as he took the machine down to the first floor, he realized how close he came to nearly throat punching a super soldier for getting too close to his neighbor's daughter. Which would be a very impressive way to die. He'd have to ask for that on his headstone. 

_Here Lies Jaskier_

_The only man foolish enough to fight a super soldier and get his skull crushed._

_He was always a lover, not a fighter._

_Let that lesson serve him well._

Truly, his sense of self preservation needed a bit of revising as far as his neighbor was concerned. Before, Jaskier never made such reckless choices in his life. He was careful, considering the consequences that would follow each of his endeavors. He was an advocate for safe and protected sex. He ate healthy (most of the time). He dressed sensibly. The only risky part of his life came from the places he found work in and even that was hardly ever.

But the moment Geralt moved in, his life became an action sitcom rife with danger and other ridiculous situations like being surrounded by super soldiers in hiding. Seriously though, they're not exactly hiding well in his opinion when they all look like _that._ And by that, he means terrifyingly hot.

He wondered though, if it was part of a weird superhuman pack mentality that they all gather around the little wolf pup. All of them have a soft spot for Ciri and each has a somewhat wolfish or predatory demeanor. Is it just a side effect of their biology that they feel drawn to small squishy vulnerable human child? Or was Ciri like their bargaining chip? A way to control the others? Given her close appearance to Geralt, and the small history she divulged about them, he wouldn't be surprised if she's like a clone that was used to manipulate them all into obedience. How else would one control a room full of elite specially designed murder machines? And Ciri did say something happened that made them all leave. Another thought came to mind among all of that. Jaskier has heard of animals imprinting on small humans, like babies and children before. Do super soldiers _imprint_ on others?

Now he was even more confused than ever before. "Dammit." Jaskier grumbled as he stopped by his mailbox to pick up his mail and paused to steal a sugar cookie from the bakery bag still in his hand. 

"These are really good. Bless her." He mumbled around the edge of the cookie he had shoved in his mouth while he rifled through his letters and ignored the ones signed by Pankratz Law.

How his family found his address was beyond him but he was too poor and tired to move, again. It would be inevitable anyway. They'd only find him, again and he would be hounded constantly. He mildly considered the chances of them making a housecall should they get entirely frustrated with his lack of cooperation. But, then again, their lives were far too busy to do such an outlandish thing. Just as they always were. Far too busy to set aside time for their own son. They certainly wouldn't change that now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everybody for the kudos and amazing comments. They truly made my day and I am so happy to see you all enjoy this fic as much as I enjoy writing it. I have a lot planned to come so stick around and keep your eyes open. ^.^

"Hm? What's this?" Jaskier noticed a key had been left in his mailbox with a note attached. The number led him to the bigger boxes off to the side of the mailroom where large packages were kept safely tucked away. The musician juggled his smoothie to his free hand, letting the strawberry pink mixture slosh around inside the half empty plastic cup while he lifted the box. It had a weight to it but wasn't ridiculously heavy.

He stacked his letters on top of the box and tucked it under his arm as he headed up to his apartment. His curiosity was piqued and he really wanted to know what was inside.

He set his smoothie on his coffee table along with the package, bouncing onto his couch to get comfy as he tucked his legs underneath him and dragged the blanket over his lap. He leaned forward to collect the package, balancing it on his knee as he gave it a more thorough inspection.

For starters, he realized the name on it had been partially obscured by a poorly placed sticker but he could make out the first three letters of _Ger_ and the last three of _via_. Secondly, the address was slightly off. Meaning, this package was destined for his nextdoor neighbor and not him.

Despite those two tidbits of info, Jaskier was a little shit that was far too nosy for his own wellbeing. And given the fact he couldn't give the package to Geralt until he came home anyway, he might as well snoop as the opportunity allowed.

He adjusted the box, shook it around a bit and felt the thick weight slide against the sides. His brow raised with a mischievous glint in his eye as a thought dawned on him. He tipped the box to examine the label of the company properly.

_The Basilisk's Menagerie._

"Oh! Oh! If that doesn't sound like a nondescript sex shop, then I will be vastly disappointed. Well, unless it's a plant store. Then I might have to ask Geralt about that more." He chuckled to himself and gave it one final shake before his tantalizing thoughts stole his attention. He set the box back on his coffee table and collected his laptop from where he left it the night before after checking his emails.

He hummed a little tune in his throat as it booted up and dropped down a new search bar to type in the name. All the while his thoughts danced around with growing amusement at discovering his neighbor has a naughty side. Of course it was to be expected. For one, he was a grown ass man capable of basic human needs and desires. Jaskier was not inept enough to think he didn't indulge in the guiltier forms of daily life. His little adventure after the Alchemy club had proven that well enough and Jaskier had been nursing that moment in his mind with varying outcomes that could have played out had he allowed Geralt to continue uninterrupted. Some were rather vanilla and bland, while others took on a far darker and more exciting route.

He was an artist and overactive imaginations and blessed creativity were how he made a living. Add onto that, the bonus perspective of his increased sex drive and his preference of the male anatomy, especially when that anatomy had the biological ability to pick him up and throw him against the nearest surface with rough strong hands and a commanding snarl. Well, what was he to do with that? Make a vow of celibacy?

_My parents would probably prefer that actually._ He snorted at the thought and dismissed his wandering as the page loaded.

"What dirty little hobbies do you enjoy?" He hummed and clicked on the first result which looked like the official site. He was greeted with a block screen that demanded a birthdate input.

"Well, well, this is getting exciting." He chuckled as he typed in his birth year. The next asked him if he would like to subscribe to the site but he politely declined with a click. 

What Jaskier was not prepared for was the following page. What he had anticipated to be a dark web porn site filled with all the naughtiest dungeon fantasies his little subby heart desired was in fact not even remotely close. In fact, he was certain he just got added to a government watch list just for opening the link.

It started out with a welcome page to the viewer, decorated pleasantly in a business fashion like most online catalogs. But when he entered the shopping pages, it was hundreds of pages filled with firearms of various shapes, sizes, calibres, firing power, etc. From pistols to assault rifles, hunting rifles to tactical shotguns to what Jaskier assumed was military grade weaponry that could take off the armor plating of a tank. Knives, machetes, camping equipment, tactical grade rope, bulletproof vests and other tactical gear. Sniper scopes, silencers, magazines, bows, crossbows, cases, slings and safes. Everything one could need to wage a war or arm a small militia could be found on this site.

Jaskier was suddenly very nervous about the item within the box he had been shaking around like a kid with a christmas present he wasn’t allowed to have yet. He stiffened on the couch, staring apprehensively at it as if the box itself had an armed bomb inside it and Jaskier was just stupid enough to rattle it around. At least it wasn’t a grenade which he doubted someone would purchase just _one_ if they meant business. Could it be a knife? Nah, it didn’t sound small enough for that. A silencer?

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he remembered the exchange on the street between Geralt, Bad Cop and the Grumpy Bear. The sizable manilla envelope and the unmarked van. The terse conversation between the three. _Oh gods. Was Geralt doing hits on people?_

“Is that how he keeps Ciri safe?” He wondered aloud, wincing to himself when his voice sounded far too noisy in the silence of his apartment. He jolted when he heard a door slam a bit too loudly out in the hall and Geralt’s deep rumbling voice grumbling incoherently outside his own apartment door. Jaskier felt a cold chill wrap around his spine and force him to curl up defensively. _Fuck!_ He exited out of the site as quickly as he could possibly do without being at risk of breaking his laptop. 

_Does Geralt kill people that come after them? Does he assassinate people for money? Favors? Oh fuck._ Jaskier jolted to his feet and stalked away from the package on his coffee table, promptly ignoring it and the strawberry smoothie he had forgotten about in the meantime. His mind far too caught up in this new and sudden revelation. He really prefered to find out that his neighbor had a weird sex dungeon fetish or something. Not this. And yet, it somehow made a lot of fucking sense now that he thought about it. Which only made him feel that much more guilty in the long run.

Geralt was sweet and kind and sincere. Yes, he was terrifyingly intimidating. He growled and snarled like a beast in human form. He had inhuman eerie eyes and that sharp scarring on his face that screamed a million and one warnings. But he touched Jaskier with such gentleness when they were close, his voice softened in just the right way that made Jaskier’s heart skip a beat and flutter like a hummingbird in his chest. He was honest and cared deeply for his friends and loved ones. For fucks sakes, _he invited Jaskier into his home for dinner._ If that didn’t scream _trust_ then the musician didn’t know what did. The man was genuine. He carefully captures freakishly huge moths and lets them go outside where they belong and smiles so warmly at the tiny details that amuse him. And above all else, _he loves his daughter._

She may not be his biological daughter, but anyone who didn’t know that detail wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. She was the spitting image of him, and their personalities, albeit devilish, matched. The same smile, the same laughter that filtered out so easily into the air. The way their eyes shined with that knowing look when they were thinking critically about a topic and they were both incredibly smart in their own right. Of course, Geralt was more reserved where Ciri was far more open on her feelings but beneath the surface, there was so much more to them both. A story of shared troubles, he was certain. They were strong and admirable people. And Jaskier loved them both dearly.

He skirted his fingers through his hair and ground his teeth in indecision. He still had to give the package back to Geralt. That much was obvious and Jaskier was not a dishonest man. He was also a very terrible liar. Twisting truths was one thing, he could round words off by the barest strings of their definitions but he couldn’t outright deny and lie. He wasn’t made for that. It made him itchy and guilty and so ridiculously uncomfortable. It was to the point that when he did make the attempt when he was in grade school, he ended up staying home for a few days because of it. He was stricken sick with guilt over his actions although it was just a tiny white lie but he was driven by restlessness to apologize. So much so that he wrote a long and detailed letter explaining the entire incident and the unadulterated honest truth. 

Ironically enough, telling stories in song never felt the same way. But he’s pretty sure if he shows up on Geralt’s doorstep with lute in hand singing a ballad to him, the man will know something is up. Or that Jaskier has officially lost his mind and in that case, he might just offer to give him a lift to the nearest psychiatric hospital.

He sucked in a deep breath, stared down at the package as if it had offended him rather spectacularly and then reluctantly approached his coffee table. He picked it up in his hands, held it at a distance like it’d blow up on the spot and made his way towards the door. He stood at his own door for far too long before he finally opened it and entered the cooler hallway. The draft that bristled down the corridor tickled the sweat that beaded at his neck and the uncomfortable heat that crawled across his skin. He felt like he was doing something extremely immoral. 

He reminded himself of all the reasons that he was in fact doing something good, returning a misplaced package to his neighbor who was a genuinely nice guy. A family man, obviously. No, he was not a hired gunman that murders people in his freetime. Even if he never wears a uniform for work and his hours are extremely irregular from what Jaskier has noted of his comings and goings in recent weeks.

He adjusted the package to nestle against his ribcage and willed his heart to stop beating so loudly and the nervous swell in his throat to relax. His hand hovered over the door for what felt like several minutes before he finally knocked. He no sooner struck twice and the door opened with Geralt standing like a foreboding force filling the entryway. His hair was a mess, hanging in his face in disarray, plastered to his skin in place where sweat had beaded on his skin. Those inhuman golden eyes narrowed on Jaskier with confusion before they dropped to the package in his arms.

“Erm, I think I got your mail on accident.” He started quickly, holding it out to Geralt. The man went to reach for the box, a rather large butcher knife in his grasp now filling Jaskier’s vision. Along with the red tinge that stained the other man’s fingers with some small chunks of raw meat attached. Jaskier gasped sharply before he could suppress it. A nervous fidget that hadn’t been lost to Geralt.

He retracted his hand quickly and offered a firm apology. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making dinner.” He tossed his head over his shoulder and grimaced at his hands when he collected the box, exchanging the knife to his messier hand in the process. Jaskier gave a weak smile and a nod of understanding.

“I’ll leave you to that then. Have a good day.” He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about how quickly he returned to his own apartment or the fact his fingers fumbled with the knob or that he contemplated applying the deadbolt. He eventually ignored the impulse and trudged toward his spot on the couch, dragging his gaze over the strawberry smoothie with its red chunks of fruit floating in the thick mixture. He cringed, scooping up the cup in a hurried movement and deposited the rest of it into the trash and rinsed the cup out into his sink.

Today was canceled. Jaskier was done with everything and ready for it to be over. He wanted to sleep and forget about everything that he had witnessed today. Seriously. Whatever gods were watching down over him right this moment can stop already. His life was enough of a disaster as is. He doesn’t need all this extra stress on top of it.


	11. Chapter 11

_Ice cream_

_Ice cream_

_Ice cream_

Jaskier was a man on a mission. It was 7pm and he had a hankering for ice cream. His sweet tooth had been killing him all day but nothing appealed to his taste buds like ice cream did. Especially after the absolute scorcher the day had been. He was pretty sure he hasn't sweat that badly since he was in high school PE class and they made them do the Imperial Physical Fitness test. Which was complete and utter bullshit in his view. You can't judge people on their ability to do the exact same physical exertion when bodies were weird and each person's genetic abilities differed uniquely.

Jaskier could hold his breath underwater for three minutes. That was a feat he gained from years of singing and lung exercises. But could he run a mile in under five minutes? Not even if the world was ending. He also didn't particularly like running as a whole. It was uncomfortable and boring.

Binge watching netflix and eating ice cream while wrapped up in blankets on his couch? Now that was an activity he could really get behind. Especially on lazy nights when he didn't have work and he had a fully functioning AC system and a half gallon of ice cream in his freezer. That last part though was a work in progress as he hunted through the store for the freezer section.

He spent a decent ten minutes trying to decide which flavor to buy that suited his fancy for the evening. He was caught between Moose Traxxs which he was feeling a chocolate and peanut butter mood but he also wanted something fruity and flavorful like Superman or Blue Moon. He weighed the pros and cons, considered the prices which were only a few cents off of each other, and analyzed his own desires and what he may be craving in a week from now when the urge returns. After the long productive session of comparing the options, he came to a final painful conclusion. 

He was going to get the Blue Moon. To be fair, he bought Superman last time and he could just get a candy bar on the way out to cover his chocolate peanut butter craving if it didn't relent after his sweet icy treat.

He started to head towards the checkout area, bypassing the pharmacy when he remembered he was out of pain relief medicine. Making a quick detour, he rummaged through the aisles until he found what he was looking for, dropping the pill bottle into his hand basket with a satisfying rattle. He was just about to turn and leave when a familiar tall, dark and brooding form captured his attention.

Now, it had been nearly a week since the mailbox incident and Jaskier has rationalized his rapid fire assumptions into a semi-neat and categorized state of reasoning and had put that whole scene behind him. So, upon seeing Geralt standing in the middle of the feminine hygiene aisle with an empty shopping cart at his side, an almost constipated expression furrowing his brows into hard concentration, Jaskier felt the sudden urge to assist. Or at least, check on the man who looks like he may have been standing there far longer than anyone really should. Especially at this time of night.

The other customers that entered the pharmacy section side eyed him and scampered off as quickly as possible to avoid the human wall of muscle and leather. His biker jacket stood out like a sore thumb against the pastel blue and dark purple plastic wrapping of the pads shelves.

"You look lost." Jaskier spoke up in his approach, catching his neighbor off guard as he spun quickly. His amber eyes were wide with surprise and very very tired in appearance. His brows raised incredulously before he registered who had spoken. Upon seeing it was Jaskier, he visibly relaxed against the cart and sighed. 

"None of this makes sense to me." He gestured. "My daughter started her….Moon Phase? How the hell did she word that?" He grumbled to himself and scrubbed a weary hand against his face. "What is all of this even for? Wings, no wings, liners, tampons, how do women figure this out?"

"Trial and error mostly." Jaskier supplied casually, coming to stand beside Geralt as he inspected the offered products. "Alright, for a first timer, probably steer clear of the tampons. That would be something for her to experiment with later on. Pads, preferably with wings." He pointed at a few different types.

"You might want to try a couple different sizes. Like I said, its trial and error until they figure out what's right and bodies are weird. No one method works for everyone." He winced as he was reminded of each of his female flames throughout the years and how easily they could rant about the female curse and the overpriced products that accompanied it. "Overnight is a must." He patted the plastic wrapping of a large pack on the top shelf.

Jaskier turned to smile sympathetically at Geralt as the man hesitantly grabbed what Jaskier had pointed out. Those amber eyes fixed on him after a moment, a raised brow in question at the musician's knowledge. Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up considering most men aren't aware of the complicated lifestyle of the female anatomy but Jaskier was as much of a good listener as he was a talker. All it took was to pay attention, observe and listen to those around him. 

"Sisters?" Geralt asked after a moment.

Jaskier shook his head sheepishly and shrugged. "Actually, no. Not really. Lots of girlfriends in high school though. Had to keep up that appearance lest there be hell if your fellow classmates find out you swing both ways." He sighed and adjusted the basket in his hands, twirling it idly.

"It paid off a little I guess." He gestured towards Geralt's cart.

"Yeah, definitely." He grunted. "I tried calling Triss but she wasn't picking up her phone." 

"Triss?" Jaskier tilted his head curiously like a dog that heard something peculiar. The name sounded familiar but he couldn't quite recall.

Geralt chuckled when he noticed the big blue eyes that were staring back up at him. Jaskier almost blushed at the response, a thought sparking in his brain to turn away suddenly. "Ciri's Aunt."

"Oh, right!" Jaskier blurted as the light bulb pinged above his head in recognition. "Ciri mentioned she had an Aunt that lived over in the Bits."

"Yeah, that's Triss." Geralt's fingers curled around the handle of the shopping cart and rolled it gently back and forth. "I don't really know what to do about teenagers, especially teenage girls and I had hoped Triss could lend some assistance."

"Well, until then you can have mine if you'd wish." Jaskier offered.

"I appreciate it." He tore his gaze away from the musician to consider the pile of products in his cart and sighed. "Think that's enough?"

"Not in the slightest." Jaskier clicked his tongue and chastised the man, he placed a hand on Geralt's shoulder and nodded towards another aisle. "Come on. If Ciri is gonna survive the next week, she's gonna need a lot more than that."

Okay, so maybe Jaskier's quick trip to get ice cream turned into a session of schooling his neighbor on the ins and outs of caring for a female experiencing the most chaotic part of their soon to be adult lives. Geralt learned about the proper pain relievers to use that will _actually_ work for cramps, the luxury of heating pads and iron tablets. A few bits of advice that ran along the lines of. "Keep up on laundry and dark clothing is a must."

"And for the final requirement." Jaskier made Geralt walk for this one as he navigated them through the store all the way back towards the freezer section.

"Ice cream?" Geralt asked, pushing the hectic mess of his shopping cart along. He stared at the musician in vivid disbelief, giving him a quick once over to see if he was joking.

"Most women have a sweet tooth when they're on their time of the month. Most commonly, chocolate. Chocolate helps with pain. I don't know the full science of that but it's proven to help relieve pain." Jaskier pointed out excitedly, stepping back as he gestured towards the aisle and it extensive flavors and varieties to choose from. "And ice cream makes everyone happy. Combine the two, and it makes for a less crappy day."

"Fair enough." Geralt hummed, that low rumble filling the air. Jaskier ignored the shiver that raced across his skin and rationalized that it was because they were standing in the freezer aisle and it was particularly chilly.

He observed as Geralt proceeded to pick out a couple single serving pints of different flavors. Meanwhile, giving a quiet murmur that Ciri has a lot of favorite flavors and he doesn't know what she'd be in the mood for. Which was fair enough. Jaskier could respect that having spent half an hour himself contemplating between three of his favorites. He did, however raise a brow when Geralt added a very large tub of orange sherbet to the cart.

Geralt caught the look on his face and gave a small smile of his own. It was weak and tired but held a spark of amusement. "I don't like ice cream." He gestured towards the sherbet. "Not even when I was a kid."

"I think you're the first person I've ever met that doesn't like ice cream. That feels like it breaks a law or something somewhere." Jaskier balked, rambling easily as they turned themselves around to head off for the checkout. He was pleased to receive that little morsel of information about his neighbor and how oddly human the topic was after the last few weeks of craziness. It was sometimes easy to forget how down to earth and real Geralt actually was in person. Even being absolutely hopeless and flustered when trying to handle the complicated and mundane problems of teenage girls.

"My brothers thought the same thing." Geralt laughed, a pleasant deep sound that made Jaskier's heart flutter and his eyes turn up to see the tantalizing shape of the man's mouth and the easy going smile that reached his eyes as whatever stresses and concerns that previously haunted him in that aisle of hygiene products started to melt away. Sort of like Jaskier's ice cream with how long he's been walking around carrying it.

"Brothers?"

"Lambert and Eskel. We're not blood but they're still family." Geralt explained, fondness twisting around his words with such ease. Jaskier admired that sentiment. How close they all seemed, even if they all looked very dangerous and highly suspicious, they still cared about each other and it showed. From the gentle bickering to the teasing commentary about each other. It was something Jaskier hadn't had in his own life and he yearned for to have while growing up. 

A family without that need to involve blood. All he had for that was Zoltan but that was few and far between. On the days when it was most dire, yes but he still missed that company. It was a lonely life he lived but one, that he often reminded himself, that he chose in the end.

He smiled, a small carefully concealed shade of melancholy shadowing his thoughts as he went through the motions of greeting the cashier and paying for his goods. He did manage to snag his attention away from his thoughts long enough to grab a candy bar and add it to his belongings. In a neighboring aisle, Geralt waited for his own things to ring up. His tired gaze flickering towards Jaskier as he started to leave his check out.

"I'll see you later. Thanks for the help." Geralt's gruff voice filled the air, snagging the young cashier's attention as she looked towards the musician. She giggled to herself, turning her head away quickly and proceeded to ring up all the products on the conveyor belt. 

Jaskier tipped his head with a smile in return. "You're welcome. Send Ciri my regards." He didn't double check to see if Geralt heard or not, his thoughts focused on getting home and enjoying the rest of his night to himself. His ice cream had barely survived but he scooped it into a cup and made a shake with it instead. The rest went back into the freezer to recover from the day.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Heart Shaped Cookies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168666) by [ChakolitChip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChakolitChip/pseuds/ChakolitChip)




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